"Great Wolf." Berek Thunderfist looked at Logan Grimnar, his eyes bright with a suppressed, restless energy.
Logan knew Berek's temperament well. As a Wolf Lord, Berek possessed a fierce sense of honor and superb tactical acumen; he was bravery personified. Yet, these virtues were shadowed by an overabundance of confidence and pride. At times, his headstrong nature courted the kind of trouble that left scars.
"Sit, Berek. Whatever the Ultramarines are planning, they are our brothers-in-blood."
"Gunnar," Logan turned to the other Wolf Lord, "take your brothers. Find out exactly why they have darkened our skies."
The arrival of the Macragge's Honour was a thunderclap in a clear sky. As Chapter Master, Logan had received no word of an impending visitation from the sons of Guilliman. He found it hard to believe his own "pups" had caused enough trouble to be chased back to their homeworld by the Ultramarines' flagship.
The Vlka Fenryka rarely held long-standing grudges, and if a conflict arose, it was usually settled with blood and bone on the spot. Except, of course, where the Inquisition or those "Grey Cans" were concerned.
"As you command, Great Wolf."
Gunnar Redmoon did not hesitate. While he shared the collective irritation at the Ultramarines' intrusion, his primary focus was the objective. Unlike Berek, who used raw aggression to mask his impulsiveness, Gunnar was cold, resolute, and possessed a will of iron. He allowed no emotion to cloud his judgment. He was also, by the standards of the Rout, a social creature. Logan trusted him not to escalate the situation needlessly.
As Gunnar moved toward the hall's great doors, another guard burst in, his face a mask of disbelief.
"My Lord! We have established vox-link with the Macragge's Honour. The transmission was initiated by one claiming to be Wolf Lord Bjorn Sharpblade. He requests that Lord Logan board the vessel in person."
Gunnar froze mid-stride and looked back at Logan.
"Gunnar, tell the others to stand ready. Berek, you're coming too. Do not make a move until you hear from me." Logan's mind raced. "This is strange... Bjorn was supposed to be leading his company in support of the Eastern Fringe war zones against the Orks. Why would the Ultramarines be speaking for him?"
The mystery deepening, Logan ceased his speculation. The answers lay aboard that ship.
The three of them departed the hall. Logan led his hand-picked Wolf Guards to the landing pads, while signaling Berek and Gunnar to muster the local Space Wolves fleet. If disaster was to strike today, Logan would not allow the Fang to fall on his watch.
After all, it wouldn't be the first time an Ultramarine had brought fire to a brother's hearth.
A grey Thunderhawk, emblazoned with the icon of the Space Wolves, roared off the surface of Fenris and pierced the atmosphere. Through the side viewport, the staggering silhouette of the flagship loomed in Logan's vision.
"A fine vessel," Logan mused. "With the firepower of the Macragge's Honour at our back, the xenos and traitors would truly learn the meaning of terror."
Then, his thoughts drifted to his own Primarch. Russ, where in the Hel are you?
His introspection was broken by the voice of the Wolf Guard pilot over the vox.
"Great Wolf, something isn't right here."
The pilot could see the landing bay clearly. Standing within the hangar they were approaching was nearly a full Great Company of Space Wolves.
With a slight shudder, the grey interceptor touched down in a hangar filled with blue-armored vehicles. Row upon row of tanks and transports bore the heraldry and cobalt livery of the Ultramarines; the cluster of grey-clad Space Wolves looked utterly out of place, like a lone wolf pack in a sea of azure.
The interceptor hissed as it turned on its mount, tail-ramp lowering. Logan Grimnar, clad in his ornate Terminator plate and helmless, strode out followed by his huscarls.
Clatter.
At the sight of Logan, Wolf Lord Bjorn and his warriors immediately dropped to one knee, fists slammed against their breastplates, heads bowed in the ritual salute of loyalty to the Great Wolf.
Logan and his guards stood in stunned silence. He recognized the figure at the front instantly.
"Bjorn? Why in the name of the Allfather are you here? And where are the Ultramarines? Don't tell me they deployed the Macragge's Honour just to act as your personal ferry."
As one of the younger, rising stars among the Wolf Lords, Bjorn could hear the genuine concern in Logan's voice.
"Uh... Great Wolf... if I told you this ship was a gift, would you believe me?"
Logan blinked, then delivered a cuff to Bjorn's head that sent the younger warrior staggering.
"What nonsense is this? Why not claim Guilliman forced it upon you? Remember whose son you are, whelp, lies have no place in a son of Russ's mouth."
"No, no! It truly was a gift!" Bjorn waved his hands frantically in denial. "But it has nothing to do with the Ultramarines, and certainly nothing to do with Lord Guilliman!"
Logan grabbed Bjorn by the gorget and pointed at the surrounding vehicles, the unmistakable blue, the prominent 'U' of the Ultramarines.
"Setting aside the ship itself, you're telling me someone 'gifted' you an entire armory of Ultramarines wargear?! Do you think I'm so old my eyes have rotted out of my skull?!" Logan's fury was palpable.
However, the Wolf Guard behind Bjorn stood up. "Great Wolf, the Lord speaks the truth."
Seeing others vouch for the story, Logan narrowed his eyes. "You had best be telling the truth."
The claim was so absurd it transcended the boundaries of logic. A Wolf Guard stepped forward, detaching a data-slate from his belt. He began to play the pict-feed, from their first encounter with the Automated Sentry-Troopers of the Axion forces to the final boarding of the vessel.
The group stood in the hangar for nearly eight hours, reviewing the logs. The data was irrefutable, compiled from multiple perspectives including the pict-recorders of various power armor suits. It revealed the impossible secret of the ship's origin.
Logan stared at Bjorn with a look that defied categorization, then threw his head back and roared with laughter.
"Come! Show me this 'gift' of yours."
He turned to the huscarl behind him. "Tell Gunnar and Berek to bring every hand they can muster up here. We have a monumental task ahead of us."
The Wolf Guard nodded and turned to leave the hangar, only to promptly get lost in the labyrinthine corridors of the gargantuan vessel. It took him a significant amount of time just to find the path to the bridge to contact the two Wolf Lords waiting in the shadows of Fenris.
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