The Imperial fleet had suffered grievous losses, and the battleships of the Adeptus Mechanicus had fallen into a rhythmic, almost mechanical silence. Yet, Belisarius Cawl's Ark Mechanicus, its weapon banks operating at maximum capacity, unleashed a volume of fire that rivaled the combined might of an entire sector battle group.
Macro-cannons with bores far exceeding standard patterns and lance batteries of searing energy density vomited destruction into the void.
Uncertain of the Tomb Ship's structural integrity, Cawl calculated a tactical shift: he would scour the lesser Necron vessels from the stars first, leaving the monolithic flagship for the final execution. Under his direct neural oversight, every discharge of the Nova Cannon shattered the phase shields of a Harvester-class vessel, followed instantly by a saturation of macro-shells that tore the Xenos hulls asunder.
The lance arrays maintained a constant, punishing suppression of the Tomb Ship. The Zar-Quaesitor's oversized sensory suites proved invaluable; its advanced early-warning augurs allowed Cawl to maneuver the gargantuan vessel with predatory grace, narrowly veering away from the Tomb Ship's primary weapon vectors moments before they discharged. While the outer hull plating suffered localized shearing, such damage was negligible for a vessel of this staggering scale.
Observing the void-war from the bridge of the Indomitable, Roboute Guilliman felt a rare flash of frustration. He had arrived in haste to meet Cawl and lacked a full strategic disposition of the surrounding fleet elements. Typically, the most effective counter to a Necron fleet was overwhelming, multi-vector fire saturation; if the density of the barrage was high enough, even their seemingly invincible phase shields would collapse. Once shorn of their shields, while their living metal hulls remained resilient, they could not withstand direct, sustained hits from heavy lances or macro-batteries.
However, the primary force in this war zone was Cawl's Battle Group Hephaestus, a massive, disparate armada lacking a unified command. It was a chaotic mix of Mechanicus and Imperial Navy assets, with each Magos leading their own sub-cult forces independently across the theater. Guilliman could not even be certain if another organized fleet was within vox-range of Cawl's position.
He knew Cawl well. The Archmagos harbored a notorious distaste for his peers, eschewing cooperation in favor of isolation. Whether researching forbidden tech or scouring ruins, Cawl operated alone with his private armies. In this fragmented command structure, even a Primarch's options were limited.
As for launching the Ultramarines in a boarding action, it was a tactical impossibility. Guilliman had watched the previous torpedo salvos; only one or two had managed to impact. The rest had been incinerated by the Necrons' preternatural point-defense. He did not doubt the courage of his sons, but to consign them to boarding torpedoes in this environment was to send them to a futile death.
Teleportation was equally out of the question. Targeted translocation required stable beacons and the manipulation of the Warp. Here, the very shadow of the Empyrean was fading. The reality-veil was so reinforced by Necron science that even Warp drives could not tear a rift for transit.
As the Indomitable provided what little fire support it could, Cawl received a priority warning from the Ark's Machine Spirit.
A hyper-dimensional corridor had been forced open within the ship. The Necrons were boarding.
Legions of Necron Warriors and Skorpekh Destroyers began flooding into the hull. Simultaneously, the monolithic structures atop the Tomb Ship flared with renewed malice. Its inertialess drives roared, pushing the flagship into a rapid, predatory close with the Ark Mechanicus.
Then, a shimmering ripple of chronomantic energy swept through the entire Ark.
Even Cawl, ensconced upon his mechanical throne deep within the core, was momentarily seized. For a heartbeat, he saw a vision of Guilliman mortally wounded once more, the Chaos Gods leering at his impotence, and traitors howling in triumph.
The Ark's Machine Spirit immediately intervened, slamming a corrective data-torrent through the throne's neural links to jolt Cawl from the waking nightmare.
Shaking off the phantasm, Cawl instantly grasped the nature of the Xenos weapon. The ship was falling into chaos. Except for the mindless automata, the servitor guards, and the most iron-willed Space Marines, every mortal and Tech-Priest was succumbing to the trauma. Two regiments of Skitarii, lost to madness, had turned upon one another, each side screaming that they were purging heretics in the name of the Omnissiah.
Cawl fought to reassert control, slaving the ship's internal automated defenses to his will to slow the Necron advance, while vox-casting to any lucid Astartes to form a defensive perimeter.
However, the Machine Spirit highlighted one specific deck with a priority rune.
When Cawl shifted his tactical view to that sector, he found Axion.
The ancient construct stood amidst the cargo bays, guarded by his massive robot escort, flanking the two crates he had brought aboard. The Necron "tombstone" weapon had elicited no reaction from Axion or his mechanical protector.
Axion watched with a mix of confusion and detachment. He didn't understand why the Tech-Priests, who had just been eyeing him with predatory curiosity, and the busy mortals around them were suddenly screaming, fleeing in terror, or butchering one another. A few maddened mortals, eyes wide with a suicidal desperation, charged toward him wielding improvised clubs.
Axion didn't move. The guardian robot snapped its integrated blades into position, effortlessly shredding the attackers. The scent of copper and the sight of pulverized flesh and metal seemed to further trigger the nearby frantic crew, who fled into the shadows.
Left unmolested, Axion was content to wait. Had Cawl not been in such a rush and actually assigned him a proper cabin, he wouldn't be standing here guarding his crates like a common dockworker. He knew that if he left, the covetous Tech-Priests would have these crates emptied within minutes.
The Necron advance was rapid. A spearhead of Xenos warriors reached the hangar vicinity where Axion stood. Emerald Gauss beams reduced hallucinating mortals to drifting ash. Skorpekh Destroyers whirled their hyperphase reap-blades, butchering everything in their path and sabotaging the ship's infrastructure. Automated sentry turrets were slagged by Gauss cannons before they could even rotate.
The Necron objective was singular: reach the command bridge or the primary reactors to cripple the Ark's offensive capacity. To the Xenos, the interior of the massive vessel was a labyrinth, but they carved their way forward with clinical efficiency.
When a Skorpekh Destroyer's Gauss fire struck a parked Thunderhawk near Axion's position, triggering a secondary explosion, the Aegis Protector instantly deployed its shields. Its towering frame formed an impenetrable wall between the searing shrapnel and Axion.