"Imperial Astartes, Space Wolf. State the reason for obstructing this unit's operations."
The Sentry-Trooper, its scanning interrupted, ceased its survey task. Before the gathered crowd, the oversized crustal scanning device in its hands melted into a flow of silver liquid metal, which then reabsorbed into its physical structure.
The Wolf Lord was not surprised to hear the construct identify his Chapter. If these entities claimed to be allies of the Imperium, it was only natural they would recognize the heraldry upon his pauldrons. However, the ensuing attempt at communication proved somewhat awkward.
"Judging by your manner, you don't seem to hail from Fenris. From which world did you arrive?"
Though the onlookers understood the Wolf Lord was attempting to initiate dialogue with a lighter tone, the phrasing was, in truth, ill-suited for the recipient. The Sentry-Trooper's cognitive core was utterly incapable of processing such non-sequitur social cues.
"Repeat: state clearly the intent behind obstructing this unit's operations."
Seeing this mechanical response, the Cadian commander who had followed the Astartes out spoke up first, hoping to save the Angel of Death from further social embarrassment.
"I wish to inquire as to this planet's coordinates within the cosmos, and where your kind originates from."
The Sentry-Trooper pivoted slightly to face the mortal commander.
"Astra Militarum, Cadian 76th Regiment. Colonel."
"Uh, my name is Diack."
"Correction: Colonel Diack. The planet beneath your feet is located within the Northwestern Sector of the Galactic Core. It is the ancestral world of the Sisythos Kindred, part of the Ymyr Conglomerate of the Leagues of Votann. It resides within the core territory of the Leagues."
"Regarding our origin: the Command Core cannot verify the initial coordinates of its construction. Our provenance remains indeterminate."
Diack glanced at the Wolf Lord. Seeing the Astartes signal for him to continue, he felt a slight wave of relief and turned his attention back to the towering Sentry-Trooper.
"Can you contact the nearest Departmento Munitorum or any other Imperial institution? Our ships have been destroyed; we require a means of extraction."
The Sentry-Trooper's ocular lenses flickered with light, a sign it was retrieving data from its core.
"Due to technical interface discrepancies in Imperial communications, this unit is unable to conduct long-range transmissions with any Imperial faction, save for the Imperial Regent, Roboute Guilliman, and Belisarius Cawl."
"Shall I attempt to establish a link with Roboute Guilliman or Belisarius Cawl for you?"
The mention of those two names plunged the Space Wolves and the mortal commanders into a stunned silence. The Sentry-Trooper's cognitive core could not fathom the psychological impact such a statement had on mortal soldiers. It was as if a frontline grunt had asked to call their superior, only to find the line was hard-wired exclusively to the supreme ruler of the Imperium and the most renowned Archmagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
For the Space Wolves, it was equally surreal. Ultimately, it was the Wolf Lord who made the decision.
"If possible, could you assist us in returning to the nearest Imperial-controlled zone? You must have ships to have reached this place."
Compared to Belisarius Cawl, the Wolf Lord would have preferred to speak with the gene-father of his cousins. Yet even with that option on the table, the Wolves were loath to take it. They had no idea how to explain to Guilliman that they had been cast into a bizarre corner of the void by the Warp, fought a war with a band of high-tech runts, ended up stranded on a planet, and were now calling for help.
Furthermore, the Wolves knew that even if they reached the Regent, it would likely be futile. Not even a Primarch could cross such vast distances to provide immediate aid. They didn't even know their own location.
The Sentry-Trooper turned back to the Wolf Lord.
"We have not yet located the Votann Ancestor Core. We will not be egressing from the Leagues of Votann territory at this time."
The Wolf Lord's curiosity was piqued. "What exactly is an Ancestor Core? And how are you operating within the territory of these 'Squats' so freely?"
"The Ancestor Core is a massive sapient processor. The Command Core believes it may be a fellow Iron Man that has survived since the Federation era. The Command Core requires a rendezvous for data exchange."
"As for our operations in this sector, there have been several obstacles. Both the Votann fleets and Chaos warbands have been neutralized by the Iron Men fleet. Compared to man-made resistance, the current environmental anomalies within this stellar region present a higher degree of processing difficulty."
The Wolf Lord was taken aback. These 'Iron Men,' who displayed such terrifying technological prowess, found the natural environment more troublesome than armed resistance? And there were Chaos warbands here?
The Imperial survivors were unaware that the Galactic Core was an extreme inversion of the Warp. In the Warp, physical laws are infinitely weakened; in the Core, the laws of physics are reinforced to an absolute, unyielding degree. No one knew why.
For the Iron Men, this rigid physical reality was both a blessing and a curse. Axion, having steamrolled several planets, had not only battered the native Votann but also crushed Chaos warbands that had been spat out here. Once those warped vessels were destroyed, the empyrean energies within them dissipated rapidly. The grotesque, non-physical fused metals separated naturally into their component elements without the need for smelting.
This had made things much easier for Axion. However, he found the high brass content in some ships peculiar; it seemed Imperial shipwrights did not typically use that much copper wiring in their designs.
The real trouble lay in the fact that many physical constants used in the outer galaxy deviated within the Core. The Iron Men possessed a precision surpassing all other races. Yet, even when manufacturing was calibrated to fifty decimal places, materials produced within the Core were subtly different from those made elsewhere. The variance exceeded Axion's testing limits; he could sense the difference but could not fully quantify it. Devoting further processing power to such infinitesimal calculations was, for Axion, a waste of logic.
Regardless of the galaxy's state, the survivors' primary concern was escape. Diack looked at the Sentry-Trooper and made a daring suggestion.
"If you aren't leaving yet, could you spare us a ship to take us out of here?"
The Sentry-Trooper's subsequent response and actions nearly drove the group to the brink of madness.
"Given that biological entities have specific survival requirements, this fleet currently lacks vessels suitable for your transport. However, the core data contains structural schematics for a small number of Imperial vessels which can be reconstructed. Do you require the reconstruction of a vessel?"
"Reconstruct a ship?!"
As the crowd stood in shock, the Sentry-Trooper projected a holographic list of ship models:
[Lunar-class Cruiser: Construction time: 3 Terran hours]
[Retribution-class Battleship (Unique Pattern: Dawn of Fire): Construction time: 7 Terran hours]
[Oberon-class Battleship: Construction time: 6.5 Terran hours]
[Inquisition Black Ship: Construction time: 5.5 Terran hours]
[Mars-class Battlecruiser: Construction time: 4 Terran hours]
[Gloriana-class Battleship (Unique Pattern: Macragge's Honour): Construction time: 13 Terran hours]
[Ark Mechanicus (Unique Pattern: Zar-Quaesitor): Construction time: 15 Terran hours]
"You may select a vessel from this list. This unit will submit the request to the Command Core. Upon approval, and following the designated construction duration, we will arrange for lighters to transport you to the ship."
Before the Iron Men, machinery held no secrets.