Upon the planet's surface, armed Thunderhawks and transport craft recovered the Space Wolves and Cadian Shock Troops stationed at the starport facilities.
Unexpectedly, a survivor from the previously downed Thunderhawk emerged: a Space Wolf Apothecary. He strode brazenly through the sea of moving mechanical forms to reach the previous defensive lines. Beyond the six sets of progenoid glands he had harvested from his fallen battle-brothers, he brought news that caught everyone off guard.
"My brother... you are saying they claim to be allies of the Imperium?"
The Wolf Lord looked at his battle-brother with shock. The Apothecary was battered, his armor scorched, and many of his bones clearly shattered.
"Yes, Wolf Lord. These mechanical entities are not incapable of communication. Of the twelve of us aboard the Thunderhawk, only nine survived the crash. We attempted to push through the lower hab-blocks, but the Leagues of Votann kin were too numerous."
"Then, as you witnessed, these machines descended from the heavens and slaughtered every resisting Votann. Unsure of their intent, I opened fire with my bolter. The machine evaded my shots with ease and issued a warning, stating I was 'attacking Imperial allied forces.' It claimed that, as there were no explicit coordination protocols in place, it would not retaliate for the accidental engagement. Once I sheathed my blade and lowered my weapon, it ignored me entirely."
"It was only because of this that I was able to recover the gene-seed from our intact brothers and return."
Hearing the Apothecary's report, the Wolf Lord fell into a brooding silence. Beside him, the Cadian Commander remained equally speechless.
"I have never heard of the Imperium possessing such allies," the Commander remarked. "Perhaps we should consult the Tech-Priests."
Shortly thereafter, a visibly reluctant Tech-Priests was "escorted" to the frontline command post. The Tech-Priest was shouting at the two Space Wolves who had dragged him away from what he considered a paradise of Votann wreckage and strange, celestial machinery.
"&%@#! According to the dictates of the Adeptus Mechanicus, interference with the study of unknown technology is an unpardonable crime! Your actions are an act of heresy upon the very altar of the Omnissiah, and you shall face the full severity of the Ordo Mechanicus! Unhand me!"
His protests, punctuated by bursts of static and binharic shrieks, finally ceased as he was forced to stand before the Wolf Lord and the Cadian Commander.
The Cadian Commander hesitated, looking as though he wanted to offer a diplomatic mediation. However, the Wolf Lord spoke first.
"I despise the Inquisition, be it the Imperium's or the Mechanicus's."
The coldness in that voice caused the fanatical Tech-Priests to snap back to his senses instantly. Looking up at the Wolf Lord, who loomed even taller than his fellow Astartes, the Tech-Priests's face twisted into what he likely intended to be a conciliatory expression.
To the onlookers, however, the Tech-Priest's augmetic-riddled, rigid face merely twitched and contorted into a grotesque grimace.
It was no secret that the Space Wolves harbored a deep-seated loathing for the Inquisition, a friction often exacerbated by the Inquisition's frequent collaborators, the mysterious 'silver-clad' warriors of the Grey Knights. Inquisitors always trod carefully when dealing with the Sons of Fenris; to the Wolves, the Inquisition were nothing more than the Imperium's bloody executioners, and the stench of their deeds was abhorrent.
Realizing he had stepped onto a conversational landmine, the Tech-Priests grew visibly agitated. The Wolf Lord removed his helm, revealing a face mapped with scars, attempting to project an air of civility. This only made the Tech-Priest more nervous, to the point where he nearly leaked sacred lubricants.
"Priest. Your name."
"￥#... Name... @... Luber, my Lord," the Tech-Priest stammered. He was but a common Tech-Priest; if the Wolves decided to "dispose" of him, it was unlikely the Priesthood of Mars would ever know, or care. In an Imperium where millions died every hour, his absence would go unnoticed.
"Priest Luber, tell me your thoughts on those mechanical entities outside. What have you discovered?"
Upon being asked about the machines, Luber's professional fervor surged once more, momentarily overriding his fear.
"They are a blessing from the Machine God! Masterpieces of the Omnissiah! I have never seen such exquisite mechanical architecture or design."
The Wolf Lord sighed, resting his forehead in his hand.
"I am not asking for a technical appraisal, Priest Luber. I am asking if you recognize them. Within the Imperium, only the Adeptus Mechanicus could field automated machine force on such a scale."
Tech-Priest Luber fell silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head.
"I have never seen the structural designs used by these units, nor the peculiar alloys from which they are forged. To my knowledge, even the Legio Cybernetica does not possess such numbers, certainly not in the dark corners where the Omnissiah's light struggles to reach."
The Wolf Lord studied Luber intently, relying on his animal instincts to judge if the man was lying.
"However," Luber continued, his voice trembling as he offered more data, "we may not even be in known space. While records of these 'Votann' exist in Imperial data-looms, ensuring we are not entirely ignorant of the xenos, I have never personally encountered their cities or worlds."
Scared by the Wolf Lord's piercing gaze, Luber began to babble a stream of calculations.
"Based on current intelligence and logic-modeling, the probability of obtaining an accurate response by directly questioning those machines exceeds 82.31%. The probability of survival by relying on Astropathic distress calls for other Imperial reinforcements is below 13.26%. Successful orientation via a Navigator is lower than 3.22%."
"Why do you say that?" The Wolf Lord did not dismiss the idea. He was perfectly willing to let Luber execute the plan with the highest "success rate."
"I observed Cadian soldiers communicating with the machines. The entities explicitly informed the soldiers they were searching for something called an Ancestral Core. I calculate a 95% probability that this is a vital holy relic of the Votann. Clearly, these machines, much like autonomous soldiers, can be reasoned with. I suspect they may even possess... true sapience."
Tech-Priest Luber suddenly sighed, his posture drooping with a sense of dejection.
"According to current observations, however, these mechanical entities are consciously avoiding any proximity to members of the Adeptus Mechanicus."
The Wolf Lord gave the Tech-Priests a strange look before leading his own squad out of the field command center.
Several Automated Sentry-Troopers were moving across the Imperial positions. While Axion did not believe the Votann had any hidden facilities beneath the Imperial lines, the Iron Men would leave no stone unturned.
When the Wolf Lord and his retinue reached the lines, they saw the "iron clunkers" carrying large sensor arrays, scanning the ground beneath the soldiers' feet.
Faced with these enigmatic allies, even the Wolf Lord felt a moment of hesitation, unsure of how to initiate contact. He walked toward a Sentry-Trooper lugging a detector across the trench line and reached out, clapping a hand onto its metallic shoulder.