As data was harvested and the frameworks of audio analysis and linguistic logic were meticulously constructed, the nanite swarms within the Sentry-Trooper's chassis ceased their shifting. A voice, marred by slight grammatical irregularities, emanated from the machine's audio array.
"Communication... now possible."
Thulison, hearing the bizarre intonation and the error-strewn syntax, bellowed a critique at the top of his lungs.
"Ancestors watch over us! What kind of mangled tongue is that? A yearling speaks better than these strange-looking iron-clumps."
"Aren't you lot supposed to be Ironkin? Why did you set upon us?! By the Ancestors, we're brothers!"
Nart failed to restrain Thulison in time, forced to listen as the other started his incessant rambling.
Whack!
A short, thick arm swung a palm, clipping Thulison hard against the head.
"Shut it, you fool, for the Ancestors' sake! These iron-clumps aren't Ironkin. I've heard that gibberish they were using before. That's the tongue of the Empire from across the galaxy."
Axion, controlling the Automated Sentry-Trooper, did not immediately reply. He required a larger linguistic sample to better refine the dialogue. In any given sentence, only a third was directly translatable; the remaining two-thirds required contextual association, guessing various possibilities based on the current scenario, and selecting the highest probability match.
Having subdued Thulison, Nart turned back toward the towering Sentry-Trooper.
"I am glad we can now manage a simple parley. I recognize you hail from that vast Empire, but we are not within Imperial territory. Why did you launch an attack against us?"
"No attack. Curiosity. More data and records... useful to me."
Nart clutched his head. Damnation, this communication is maddening.
However, as the exchange continued, he noticed the machine's mastery of the Natann language was improving at an exponential rate, constantly auto-correcting its own errors. It was then that Nart and Thulison realized the truth of the situation.
"By my Ancestors... you mean to say you only wanted to scan and identify our Land Trains? You weren't trying to destroy them?"
The Sentry-Trooper gave a stiff nod.
Nart turned in a fury and shoved Thulison to the ground.
"Thulison! You cost us an Iron Eagle Gyrocopter! I warned you not to launch a reckless assault!"
Thulison hit the ventral armor of the transport with a dull thud. He scrambled to his feet, swaying slightly, and shook his head before shouting back.
"How was I to know what those never-before-seen craft were up to? You didn't tell me I couldn't! I don't care, this loss is on your tab too!"
The Sentry-Trooper spoke again, posing a question.
"I have analyzed the previously untranslated dialogue. What are 'Ironkin'? And what are you? Genetic markers indicate you are an abhuman subspecies, yet you appear to be unique synthetic organisms. One-third of your physiology consists of bio-mechanical constructs. This technology... feels familiar."
As the communication progressed, Axion's Natann-tongue had lost its jarring edge. Yet, his questions plunged the two Kin into silence.
Nart remained silent because he hesitated to reveal the secrets of the Kindred to these strange machines. Thulison, meanwhile, was simply struggling to process the complexity of Axion's words.
"I don't know nothing about 'synthetic organisms' or 'abhumans,' but we are the League of Votann! The Ironkin are brothers to us Hearthkyn. Even if they're a pile of iron-clumps like you, they're our true brothers-in-arms."
This statement struck a chord within Axion.
"Iron-clumps like us? Mechanical entities? Brothers? Sentient machines?!"
"I wish to meet these Ironkin. If you grant this request, you may name a suitable price. Provided it is reasonable, I shall fulfill it."
Thulison slapped Nart's shoulder with reckless abandon and spoke up.
"I swear by the Ancestors, if you can return our Gyrocopter to us, exactly as it was, I'll take you to our camp."
"What in the void are you saying, Thulison!" Nart barked, throwing off the other's arm. "We cannot bring these unknown—"
"Agreed. Constructing sequence. Identification code: CMES-01."
Axion cut him off and straightened his metallic frame. The Heavy Combat Drones had already scanned the Iron Eagle Gyrocopter during the initial engagement; reproducing it was a trivial task for Axion. Ignoring the two Kin as they descended back into bickering, the Sentry-Trooper stepped aside and entered sentry mode.
Minutes later, a slight shudder vibrated through the transport as it touched down. The rear cargo ramp hissed open.
Parked just a short distance away was an identical Gyrocopter.
"This...?" Even Nart was struck speechless. He had never heard of the Empire possessing the capability to reconstruct Votann aircraft so flawlessly.
Thulison let out an excited howl and sprinted toward the craft. His stout frame leaped onto the fuselage as he wrenched open the cockpit canopy. Everything was exactly as it should be, even the bag of dried algae snacks in the corner and the flask of mushroom wine hidden beneath the pilot's seat.
Though he had seen the strange aircraft blow his original Gyrocopter to scrap with his own eyes, this replacement was a perfect duplicate. Thulison grabbed a handful of the algae and began to chew. The taste was identical, perhaps even a bit richer.
Finding his throat parched by the mineral-algae snack, he grabbed the metal flask, unscrewed the cap, and poured the liquid down his gullet.
"Hah! Ancestors be praised, that's a fine vintage!"
Thulison wiped his beard with a thick arm, smearing a few drops of spilled spirits onto his shoulder guard. Seeing his comrade hiding snacks and booze in combat gear, Nart stomped over on his short legs, hauled him out of the cockpit, and snatched the items away. He inspected them closely before whispering to Thulison.
"Identical?"
Thulison's eyes flickered briefly. "To the last bolt."
Then, he barked a laugh. "Tastes great, Nart! You should have a pull!"
The Sentry-Trooper leaned against the cargo bay wall with an almost human casualness, watching the two Kin in silence. With nanite swarms and quantum printing, Axion could reconstruct anything at the atomic and molecular level. Even printing a flesh-and-blood body was no great feat, though it would be a vessel without a soul. A few scraps of organic matter were nothing.
Nart snatched the algae and wine, tossed them into his own cockpit, and scolded his companion.
"I'm reporting this to Captain Gisent when we return! The Warband regulations strictly forbid drinking on duty!"
He then turned away from Thulison and approached the Sentry-Trooper.
"I do not know what to call you, but the Votann value their oaths. Thulison made a promise in the name of the Ancestors, and we must honor it. You may follow us to the camp. There, you shall meet our Ironkin brothers."