From the moment the Guardian-class vessels entered the theater of war, the Tech-Priests aboard the Ark Mechanicus detected colossal torrents of data surging from the two silver ships. The Adeptus Mechanicus was no stranger to the arts of electronic warfare; many of their sacred armaments were inscribed with Sigils of Interference, relic-logica circuits capable of subverting enemy machinery or inducing catastrophic malfunctions during the heat of battle.
However, the total and forceful seizure of an entire enemy fleet's command authority was a feat that transcended the understanding of these "oil-heads." In the current age, such a total override was usually synonymous with scrapcode infection or the daemonic possession of a Machine Spirit.
In the era of the Old Federation, artificial intelligence was ubiquitous. Most vessels possessed independent sapience; a forced takeover between ships of equivalent strategic-grade intelligence was deemed a mathematical impossibility.
Among the other powers of the galaxy, the Aeldari utilized Spirit Stones to guide their wraith-constructs. The Necrons possessed a cold, terrifying science distinct from that of the Iron Men, a fusion of mechanical perfection and the lingering, tattered essence of souls. The Orks, meanwhile, utilized a "technology" so nonsensical that even Axion found it incomprehensible. Despite having observed Mekboyz "fink" weapons into existence, the machine intelligence could not fathom how such ramshackle heaps actually functioned. The Tyranids, conversely, relied on synaptic networks and bio-matter.
Only the T'au, whose technology was developed with the clandestine aid of the Demiurg, closely mirrored the developmental path of the ancient "Creators." Artificial intelligence permeated every facet of their society, providing the hyper-acceleration of their rapid expansion.
Yet, when standing before the apex predators of silicon-based logic, the Iron Men, these nascent T'au intelligences were as soft and vulnerable as a shelled nut.
…
Having scoured the T'au and Orks from the void, the two Guardian-class ships returned to the orbit of Volkus to stand watch.
Ordinarily, the mechanical fleet would await directives from the Inquisitor aboard the Black Ship. Following the collection of the tithe, they would descend to the surface to purge the hive of xenos and extract the psykers designated as payment. However, the situation on Volkus had deviated from the norm. The planet had already suffered xenos infiltration, an unacceptable variable in the execution of the Protocol.
Acting on shared intelligence harvested from the Imperial defenders, the two Guardians initiated a massive deployment of mechanical ground forces.
As the metallic reapers marched from the Hive's primary starports, the soldiers of the Astra Militarum felt a sudden, bone-deep chill. Automated Sentry-Troopers began a rapid descent from the upper spires into the suffocating depths of the underhive.
Death was coming, creeping from the foundations to the peaks of the Hive.
The Genestealer Cults lurking in the lightless depths were the first to be sanitized. Under the scrutiny of bio-recognition beams, the distinction was absolute. Whether purestrain or hybrid, if a single strand of Tyranid DNA was detected within a subject, their only reward was immolation by neutron beams or dismemberment by particle blades. This real-time genetic sampling was infinitely more efficient than the Imperium's cumbersome chemical tests, ensuring that no shadow of the Great Devourer remained.
The Genestealer cultists mixed among the populace were systematically erased. Chaos, however, was even more conspicuous to the machines' energy-vision. To the optics of the automata, the swirling, vivid corruption of the Warp was an eyesore. The twisted runes carved into the flesh of Chaos cultists acted as beacons, constantly drawing power from the Empyrean and betraying their bearers.
An Imperial psyker might fear the taint of the Warp while scanning for such rot, but the Iron Men possessed no such concept of spiritual corruption. Anyone bearing the energetic signature of Chaos was executed on the spot, their remains reduced to piles of sterile ash.
Simultaneously, the Sentries recorded the data of individuals exhibiting latent psychic potential, marking them for later collection. Once the Inquisition's formal orders arrived, the extraction of the psyker tithe would be a mere matter of logistics.
During this purge, the Tempestus Aquilon, the Mordian Iron Guard, and various Cadian and generic Astra Militarum regiments bore witness to the slaughter. Within the labyrinthine Hive structures, the pale-gold shimmer of particle blades and the blinding lances of neutron beams erased the enemies of the Emperor with terrifying ease.
Genestealers charging in frenzied waves were shredded in the Sentries' magnificent, whirling blade-dances. Cultists and corrupted Hive-gangs were ignited one by one. The neutron beams brought more than just heat; they brought lethal radiation. Flesh would not just char, but undergo cellular collapse. Those who survived the initial strike would soon succumb to agonizing radiation sickness.
Unless they could bribe a particularly unscrupulous Tech-Priest for bionic replacement, death was the only outcome. Perhaps the Ruinous Powers might grant a "blessing" to stave off the end, but Chaos is no charity. Unless one worshipped Grandfather Nurgle, the likes of Khorne, Tzeentch, and Slaanesh had little concern for the fate of common cultists.
Organic life appeared pathetically fragile before these mechanical legions.
Yet, the mechanical host brought more than just slaughter; they brought the Emperor's salvation. More than once, mortal squads pinned down by xenos or traitors were saved by the intervention of the automata. A mere pair of mechanical units could dismantle an insurgent force of hundreds in the most claustrophobic environments.
Omni-directional environmental sensing and cross-linked data sharing made their cooperation appear like a perfectly timed machine in a slaughterhouse. To the watching Guardsmen, it was bloody, yet it lacked the heat of cruelty. It was simple. There were no battle cries, no roars, and no vox-chatter. Every strike was a calculated kill-shot.
Occasionally, a particularly capable insurgent managed to land a hit with a melta-charge or a plasma gun. Yet, even when blown apart, the Sentries emitted no screams. Their shattered chassis would be retrieved by their peers as soon as the local engagement concluded.
Many Guardsmen whispered to their accompanying Enginseers, asking if the future's Combat Servitors could ever be this efficient. There was a quiet hope among them, the "Emperor's Coins," that if there were enough of these machines, perhaps the mortal soldiers might finally know a moment's rest.
The Tech-Priests, however, watched the killing machines with a mixture of greed and resentment. Many Priests had privately calculated the odds of a subversion attempt. Only after confirming that even the deployment of the Legio Cybernetica would likely result in defeat did they abandon their "bold" ambitions.
For the soldiers of the Astra Militarum, whether the Scions or the rank-and-file, the dream was always a furlough, a moment of peace. They were the tithe paid in blood, the Emperor's currency. Except for the few "blessed" madmen who lived for the kill, most simply wanted to survive to see their homeworlds again.
Cadians, of course, were the exception. With their world shattered, the Cadians had nothing left but the cold fire of vengeance against the Great Enemy.