100 Kilometers north of the Valley of Bones, Naggaroth, middle of a battle, next day

The closest groups of enemies were an impressive sight. Huge, steely eyed warriors demonstrated their strength by carrying armor and weapons that Areta could probably hardly lift, let alone use. They were led by Champions which were even bigger and some of them had eldritch light shining from any gaps in their armor.
The Auxilia were a different sight altogether: Equipped with the lightest of armor if at all, the slender true Elves and their slim rifles looked frightfully vulnerable against such a foe. The long march without a real resupply had caused many uniforms to become worn, scruffy and sported off-color patches. The Auxilia troopers, having the lean figure of Druchii or the very-well trained humans were now positively gaunt.

The illusion burst as a soap bubble when the heavy weapons platoon opened fire. The machine guns tore into an enemy that had yet to learn to take cover. The courageous charge of the Chaos warriors, their aggressive stance and their close formation which had brought them through countless battles and skirmishes now made them targets. Dangerous targets, frightening targets, targets that screamed with hate and that should not get too close, but targets. The armor covering the mighty chests and thick limbs did not protect the enemy but just deformed the bullets into shapes that ripped hideous wounds into mutated flesh but slowed the Chaos Warriors down when they should have closed fast.
But for every warrior the machine guns and the Auxilia shot there seemed to be at least another taking his place and despite their armor and the bodies in front of them then came closer and closer.

The cry "Black tips, Black tips" went through the Mercenaries. Areta`s hand reacted to the long drill she had been exposed to and her hand dropped to another pouch. The black tipped bullets had a core of hardened steel and punched through the armor of those Warriors who carried even more than most of them. But that was still not enough and Areta tensed for what was to come.
By now she could see the red-rimmed eyes of the approaching enemy clearly, see the tattoos and ritual scars, the pointy teeth that wanted to rend her flesh. She was far too busy firing to worry much, but when the three long whistles could be heard she reacted with the speed of a worried snake. Dropping her rifle into its sling she took a Grenade from her belt, ripped the cord that ran through its grip and threw with all her might. The explosions that followed were too close for comfort even for her-the Chaos warriors felt it in a very different way. The explosions had effect beyond the mere killing and maiming-it stopped the charge in its tracks and destroyed the formation that the Chaos unit so far had maintained.
The Lt. did not just look at the pretty picture-more whistles sounded from his place in the line and by now Areta`s brain translated them automatically "Fire the tit and get ready to charge Ladies".
Like her squad the Druchii ripped the 5 rounds from the cloth slings fixed to her rifle`s stock and send out a rapid-fire salvo that destroyed whatever unit cohesion their enemy still had she waited for the long whistle that would send her forward. She was as tense as she could be-and then it had nowhere to go.

Instead the increasing drum of hoof beats filled the air and showed that somebody else would do the mock-up. For a second her face warped itself into that of an angry predator who`s prey is just taken by another, then the good sense of a veteran set in. The Druchii cavalry smashed into the small groups who remained and did not even slow down. Lances driven by the momentum of several hundred kilogram of horse and Druchii pierced armor and flesh alike, swords added the speed of the charge to that of their wielder`s arms and cut through limbs and necks.
Five minutes ago such a charge would have been as likely to break through the enemy as smashing itself to pieces on their weapons, now that the Chaos warriors had the Auxilia treatment it was easy.
Areta organized the distribution of new ammo and had a look at her squad who were fine. Finally she could try to get a look at the "big picture". From what she could see the enemy was pretty much beaten. There was a long string of Khornates that stretched clear from their lines to the front of the gun the Germans had brought-they had probably started charging the gun as soon as the first round hit their position. The gaggle of dead close to the gun was interesting, she had heard some rumors about new ammo that had reached them with the resupply, but what did "Canister" mean?
The rest of the Enemy was either ridden down by the Cavalry or retreated as fast as they could into the fortress behind them. How they were going to take that down was a totally different matter.

Friedrichshafen, next morning

This was a rather beautiful day-nearly no clouds, next to no wind and balmy temperatures. In older times this would have been called "Kaiserwetter" (Emperors weather). But today the sun shone on an event that the many spectators considered far more important than the mere visit of some royalty.
Klaxons tore through the murmurs of the crowd that lined the bank of Lake Constance to announce the opening of the huge doors that closed the swimming hangar. At first not much seemed to happen and then a black gap seemed to open slowly-which was an illusion lend by distance and size.
Doors of a size of 85x80 meters do not open in seconds. When the doors were finally open a crane pulled the contents of the hangar into the sunlight, bit by bit.
The silver lift envelope glittered in the sun, and the crows murmur rose to new heights when the huge airship had cleared the doors completely. The airship clung to the moorings until all 8 props were spinning, then the crane arms released their hold. The airship took speed slowly and bit by bit and accelerated down the lake till it changed course and climbed to a higher attitude.
Urs Zurmalmen had asked himself before how it would be to watch the overflight of such a giant and now he got his wish together with at least 100.000 others. There were numbers to describe it-270 meters long, half a million cubic meters volume, 6 turbines at 10000 horsepower each, but nothing could describe the sheer majesty of this giant cruising over the crowds head, the huge shadow that swallowed and released them-it was grand but indescribable.

Even this grandiose feeling could not take the chuckles away when he made out the name. This first airship was for the DFG-the community of Universities and research agencies in Germany who wanted to use it to experiment and research this brave new world. In their effort to raise third-party funds they had, among other things, auctioned off the name of the Airship. The group that donated the most towards this undertaking could name the ship-within reason of course.
Who would have thought there were so many Trekkies left in Germany-but there was the proof of it, written large in black on silver: "Enterprise"

Another Universe, a very different time

There are in all known universes many more Planets than there are Suns. The vast majority of these planets orbit around a star, and yet some do not. These bodies are exceedingly hard to find as they emit no light, next to no infrared and the search area could not be narrowed by observing the ecliptic plane of the parenting sun.
Many many years before the C`tan had risen the instabilities inherent in a double star system had ejected the Mars-Sized planet from its orbit into the interstellar vastness where it orbited the Galaxy`s core for millions of years without any notice. Relatively recently it had acquired a satellite of its own who after the briefest spark of activity went as dark and quiet as the planet it went around eternally.
While small compared to the celestial body the satellite was immense for an artificial structure. Shaped like a long wedge it sported a gothic-seeming assortment of towers and crenellations which long ago had served as sensors, heat sinks and weapons. The many stars that shone on the ship from so very far away would never have lit the surface enough for unaided human eyes to see but for those with the abilities there was a name written on both sides of the vessels bow-"Ragnarök".

There had been no change in these affairs for so long-until now. The very fabric of space was ripped asunder and a realm where sanity did not need to apply released three more vessels. Smaller than the giant in front of them they were even more ornate-and immeasurably more active.
Giving off copious heat and eldritch lights for a while the ships assumed a tighter formation and then accelerated towards the cold giant.
Even smaller vessels detached themselves from the largest vessel and clamped themselves to the hull of the ancient hulk while their mother ships stayed at what was hoped to be a safe distance.
The bridge of the "Holmgang" the largest of them was a study in contrasts-high-definition holographic displays were projected by devices clad in brass and wood. Some of the crew wore prosthesis which contained micron-sized wired into their nerves but the wires were protected by thick external cable protectors sheathed in gleaming Chrome leading inside the skulls.
One of the Holograms was studies by several figures which were all literally larger than life. Wearing pieces of grey armor, the fur of legendary animals and an assortment of weapons they dwarfed the nearly normal sizes human who was hardwired into the Captains seat.

"We measure a temperature of 2.3 Degree Primarch, the galactic background`s radiation. This is a ship long dead. The good news is that the hull seems to be intact. There are some impact marks, but nothing major or penetrating."
"After 9500 and some years she might very well be. We left the ship behind when…ah well that is for another time. The ship will have shut itself down as completely as possible when we did not come back-after 100 years or so. By that time the servitors will have degraded to the point where they were no longer capable of keeping up the ship anyway."
"So there will be no support systems of any kind. What about security if the ship is in this stage?"
"Nothing beyond the maze itself. Mind you-when you want to power her on or remove certain items you need me, otherwise not much will happen-or too much depending on the system in question."
"Nobody could restore the ship but you, Primarch?"
"Others could, but they are dead, Logan, long dead"
"Primarch, Tech Marine Hangulf reports that he has arrived at the designated airlock and reports that the standard controls do not work."
"Have the Marine attach a hydraulic pump to the port below the controls and pump in fluid until he has back pressure-than the wheels should turn. Remind them to place the relays-the armor will otherwise swallow all signals once they are inside."
"Yes Primarch"
Everybody at the Bridge could just stand and wait until the Techmarine and his servitors had managed to open the airlock and vanished inside. They were followed by a squad of Marines who checked out the environs of the ship. While a Patriarch of the Space Wolves and the Captain of the "Night Runner`s" Great Company were reduced to listen to the terse wireless commo between the troops. But so far it seemed that the only dangerous things on that ship were the lack of atmosphere, light, warmth or whatever else humans needed for life, but nothing actively stalking them.
Leman Russ had never been endowed with more than the minimum required patience and finally moved.

"That is good enough. Ready the Thunderhawks-we take the ship back."
It took them several hours, not the least as the kilometer-long ship did no longer provide internal transport for its crew, but when they were done Lehmann Russ stood at the bridge of his former Flag Ship, the Ragnarök.
The ship was as inactive as possible, so any light was provided by the Wolves, they had to use the magnetic clamp function on their boots and opening any hatch was a major operation.
As nobody trusted the relic`s power systems auxiliary generators were brought on board, adapters were made to work and power was piped into select systems.
While Lehman Rus was bending himself over a console and tried to convince a resurrected computer that it was really him and that he was really allowed to ask the questions he wanted while his retinue was guarding the living legend among them.
In another part of the ship the commotion had been registered. Long-dormant systems powered up, electrons ran paths nearly forgotten and pressure was fed to actuators which had last moved when the Emperor was still talking to his people.
Many of these mechanisms had succumbed to age. Brittle insulation could not contain voltage and arced, joints were frozen stiff in time and ancient power banks shortened in brief flares of heat. But enough had remained functional, and so machines rose from their resting placed, testing aiming mechanisms and carefully moving blades.

Martensen`s family house Papenburg, same morning

"Now look here dad, that old capacitor is all bulged outwards. I think that is it-we`ll solder in a new one."
"Ah well, we have that blasted thing since me and mum are married, so it had any reason to die of old age."
"5 minutes with a soldering iron and it will work again." And so the old Hoover indeed did, which earned Jens some Euros.
"Thanks Dad, that mighty fair of you. I`ve done my homework, I`ll be off for soccer then."
"Be back at 6 sharp-the roast won`t wait for you."
"Will do, bye Dad."
Wilhelm Martensen, part-time Captain of the 3st Landwehr and full-time father of 3 Children settled to his Sunday and was quite happy about the repaired appliance. A new hoover would have been nearly a thousand euros these days, money he preferred to save that for that holiday in the "Club Estelia" that the family planned for next year. A holiday in them was an once-in-a-lifetime experience-they had a long waiting list and were expensive as hell. The Club was a piece of Germany transplanted into Estelia and offered beaches, Scuba diving and other activities together with organized visits to the surrounding countryside.
There were much cheaper offers by now to take the holiday locally, but that was roughing it and not advisable when you did that with Children. In 10 years or so things might be different, but now it was the safer bet you`d enjoy the holiday if you used a "Club". So going there depended on not having to replace any bigger electrical applicances-they were fa too expensive these days. cheap Hoover went for 800 Euros and Washing Machines routinely were bought with a financing plan.

The washing machine was making very funny noises at times and if it could not be repaired the holiday would have to happen in another year. Miele was charging an arm and a leg for them. And God forbid the hoover would quit again. Maybe his neighbor could help there, he was a master electrician. Neighborhood help had become much more important these days, it reminded him a bit about what he had heard about old East Germany.
He had a quick look at his watch-20 more minutes for himself. He had promised his wife to lend her a hand with the canning of their Strawberry marmalade. The Martensen`s garden which used to be mostly a lawn before the Weltensprung was now given to several Vegetables and Fruits. And while they froze some of it they found that actually doing their own jam had its own rewards, the liberal dose of rum that the Captain mixed in might have something to do with that. The jam glasses would finally go into the cellar and for a part of the food stash that most German households by now kept. For many years the German government had told people to stash at least two weeks of food and other supplies "in case"-it had taken the Weltensprung to make people do it.

Turning over the page he saw the picture of the "Enterprise's" launch. The article below was full of technical details and went on about the use of the airship to discover new countries and cultures. The small specs around the airship resolved themselves into two Griffons who flew alongside the ship.
It took him a minute before the full impact of what he read and saw was making himself felt- "Discover new Countries, study new ecosystems, make contact with unknown cultures"
As any German he had lost so much-safety, a part of his income, many luxuries like cheap leisure travel and like most others he would have preferred to be back on Earth-but here could see what they have won. Did that balance the scale? He was not sure, but what he was sure about was that he lived in interesting times.

100 Kilometers north of the Valley of Bones, Naggaroth, also early in the morning, next day

Petra Heim had learned many ways to please her Mistress. Some were exiting, some degrading, painful, humiliating, arousing, exhausting or any combination thereof. What she was currently doing was probably the strangest and most exhausting way to gather her favor she had tried so far. Contorting herself into another brezel shape she hooked her finger into another crevice and when she was sure to have a decent grip placed her foot higher up and pushed.
Thankfully her grip was as good as she hoped and nothing slid. The Crevice in front of her actually looked promising and was about the right distance from the last hold, so she hugged the rock face in front of her even more closely and released one hand. She took another Carbine and anchor from her belt and wedged it into the gap in the spire.
Taking a moment of rest she looked downwards-she was up roughly 200 meters by now and had about 80 more to go. Putting a thin nylon cord through the carbine she let the line drop through it on both sides. Shortly thereafter a more substantial line was pulled up to her and she fixed it to the anchor. Well, no rest for the wicked, she needed to be on top soon. As a former member of the "Alpenverein" she was very used to free rock climbing, something dearly needed now.
It took her one more hour, half of a fingernail, some square centimeters of skin and about the rest of her stamina, but she made it in time. Taking care not to stand up and silhouette herself she crawled on all fours to the far edge of the rocky spire and looked over the edge. In several hundred meters distance was the ancient mountain fortress that gave such problems to the "Schwarze Schaar"-and she was looking in from the top.

Wolfgang Böhler would have sworn a blue streak, if he had the breath to do so. Immensely fit for somebody on the wrong side of 50 climbing up a rock spire of nearly 300 meters was not his favorite way to start the day. Still he could do it the comparatively easy way. He had a rappelling device for his hands which he could push upwards on the rope whenever he had sufficient grip with his feet and which would not slide downwards again.
It was still taxing as hell, but meter by exhausting meter he made the height. The sight on top rewarded him for every centimeter climbed. Unobstructed sight lines for kilometers, including directly into the fastness of the enemy.
The view demonstrated again why he had to take the climb.

The Fortress was an interesting one, so old that nobody remembered who had originally build or used it. Some work seemed to be dwarven, but the ramps that he could make out indicated that some users did not like stairs very much. A long stone bridge with a lifting part in the middle connected the entrance to the fastness to the rest. The Bridge was accessible along a short front only and in range of arrows and magic. Even when one gained access to the short part that was on this side of the Chasm there would be the problem to get across under fire.
Instead of walls made of individual stones the builders had used reshaped the original rock. Because of the high sides and the impossible-to-storm bridge this emplacement had given the Druchii a very hard time-until Jasla`s pet had come up with a wild idea. And now it seemed to pay off.
He stayed in cover until Jasla, her assistant mage and a few helpers had also made it to the mountaintop, they had carried his rifle case with them. Taking out his favorite tool he placed a small sand-filled bag in front of him as a rest for the rifle stock and fished for his Binox when Jasla slid into position besides him.
"May I have your Binoculars for a Minute Herr Böhler?"
"Certainly."
The fact that Jasla was asking politely was a major shift by its own. The way the sniper handled himself in Druchii society and on the battlefield-two fields with only minor distinctions anyway-had made her sit up and take notice. Unfortunately that probably meant she had also uprated him as a threat, but that could hardly be helped.

"Anything interesting down there?"
"Yes, very much so. I think I know now what has made these idiots seek this Khaineforsaken place."
"Now that interesting, do tell."
"See that stone ring down there?"
"The one they are dancing around?"
"Yes, that one. To you it will be unassuming. To me it is quite bright-in a strange and intriguing way. This is an altar to the gods of whoever made this fortress. And it is highly possible they are still accessible through this portal."
"Sounds bad"
"Is bad-we need to take care"
"I think we can do that-show is about to start in 15 Minutes or so, so please finish whatever preparations you need to make."
The sniper watched Jasla as she made her way towards her helpers. Before she was there she patted her slave absentmindedly on her head like one would a dog that had performed well. Wolfgang was about to wince at the beaming look the Druchii mage got in back till he saw the face change when Jasla`s face was back to her. It was the briefest of moments but something there was off-pretty much so. Well, no skin of his nose.

It was more than a little unsettling assuming a sniper position when a lithe Druchii mage chalked sigils into the ground around you, some of which seemed to float a couple of centimeters of the ground, but Wolfgang had by now seen stranger things.
He went into a world of his own. The change was inside his head mostly as he turned his attention off anything not essential to the task at hand. He no longer felt the hard ground that pressed into his chest uncomfortably against the irregularities on the ground, his legs that were contorted into a stable shape or the many small pains that being older brought with them. His sensory input was likewise reduced to what he could see through his scope and even his empathy shut itself down. Instead of humans or other feeling, breathing beings with hopes, fears and aspiration he now just saw targets. Immobile targets, mobile targets, valid targets and those he was not allowed to shoot-the world reduced to its essentials.
Despite the reductions-these were the moments he lived for, this was what was making him tick and when he really felt alive and able to make a difference.
Even in this state he heard Jasla as she had something relevant to say. "Take the mages first-they can hurt us even here. The ones with the rainbow robes and the feather in his face first-he will be the most dangerous one."
"Yes"

Wolfgang checked the small column of smoke rising from the Altar to the heavens again-straight up, nearly no wind. Thanks for providing the clue suckers. Next he measured the apparent height of the targets upper body against the scale etched into his scope, gaining the range from that. Adjusting his aim for the height difference he exhaled half-way and took up the pressure on his trigger.
As it was a set trigger which was pulled with the lightest of touches the shot went out as a surprise. The bullet impacted slightly low and to the left of the snipers point of aim, not that this made any difference. The projectile had been made to take out large game having several times the mages mass. It arrived at better than 800 meters/second and had enough energy to kill a human 7 times over. In an effort not to waste too much of that energy on overpenetration a ball at the tip of the bullets was pushed back into the projectile when it started its way into the body. The ball went into a canal which was slightly too small for it and forced the bullet open like a razor sharp banana that was peeled. Dropping fragments into other parts of that anatomy the bullet caused a cavity in the upper chest that would have been big enough to put the mages head in it.

Needless to say the mage was dead before his knees bend. By the time he rested on the ground the sniper had reloaded and fired his second shot before anybody had spotted him for real. At the time when the 3rd target showered its surroundings with blood and entails hands pointed in his direction and the 5th shot was met by a flash 10 meters out from the ground.
After reloading he fired 2 more rounds and the outcome did not really change. He shifted his attention to the troops manning the Parapet and achieved satisfactory results. Ignoring the mages was not a good idea though which the black flames that licked at the protection afforded by his wards clearly showed.
"Can you take that shield down Jasla?"
"Yes, but then I cannot banish their attempts. Better get them quickly then."
Wolfgang went back into his "sniper mode" but even then he heard and felt the invocation practiced somewhere behind him. The next shot took out the mage easily enough and the one after that left an empty robe, but then the shield was back on.
"What gives witch, can`t hack it?"
"I had to catch something nasty in time. You want to look at the warp in the raw from the inside?"
"Err no. Can we repeat this soon then?"
"I can get it up faster than you old man, just ask Petra."
"Just do it ok."
"Touchy there? Forget it."

A minute later Wolfgang was again partaking in his favorite sport. Three men (?) were still around, making gestures which sometimes left glowing traces in the air and that would have made him queasy if he would have looked at it for any length of time.
"Boom" and the first one died.
"Boom" the second was minus his head, he had started to duck when the sniper was already pulling the trigger.
"Boom" and the shield was obviously back up.
"Jasla, what the fu…" A single glance at a face that was even more pale than usual and that sported circular hematomas around both eyes answered the question sufficiently.
"You….you get one more chance sniper. Do not…do not blow it."
"Will do"
The scope revealed only one more mage, this one in a really ostentious robe, but otherwise quite normal looking. He was screaming something, he was gesturing-so he had to go, that should be it.
Wolfgang celebrated the ritual of taking aim as he had hundreds of times and then hesitated. Taking this shot right was more important than usual. A second look would not hurt, even if it stressed Jasla even more.
When the shot came it ripped the bony chest of a helper who stood close to the mage apart. Clad just with a loincloth the tan lines on his arms and chest had given him away.
"Changing clothes with your helper will you? I place bait for my targets, I do not fall for it."
Wolfgang did get to shoot another couple of clips before a wave of Druchii carried the wall and gate.
Mission accomplished

Friedrichshafen, Germany

Not all visitors found the new name of the Airship funny. Among the honour guests was General Kurt Crüwell with his entourage. The General could retrace the service history of his family back to the Grand Elector´s time and even beyond.
So seeing the first German Airship in decades with THIS english name was difficult for him. Especially since Star Trek was dead for the General latest with the "Red Matter" rubbish, but really before when the writers started to screw their own canon and the assinine behaviour exhibited at times by the crews. Captain Janeway was a disgrace for any officer, male or female and many other "Star Fleet officers" exhibited stupidity as their first character sign as well.

Kurt tried to link the name with the old Aircraft Carrier in his mind, so not to jump in his Hind and blasting the Zeppelin out of the sky for "polluting" the Air space.
He turned to his adjutant.
"Hans, when Friedrichshafen delivers our Zeppelin, we will give it a proper name."

"Herr General?"

"A German Zeppelin should have a German name, I doubt the Americans would name one of theirs "Tirpitz" or "Friedrich der Große". Hell, even if you take a foreign name out of respect, then one not from a fictional sci-fi series where the Starships are crewed by imbeciles."

Battle Barge Ragnarök, a little later than the original boarding

The plug of metal had a diameter of 3 meters and was even deeper than that. It was pushed out of the cavity it had been resting for 10 Millennia slowly and it swung aside even more slowly. Inside the hole it left was only stygian darkness.
A Techmarine made sparse gestures which sent a tracked servitor down the hole. Everybody was waiting with baited breath to find that nothing happened.
"Nothing here Primarch"
"Let me see"
The Primarch entered the hole that led into the strong room of his former flagship with several Wolf Guard in tow. While he wanted to hurry both dignity and the magnetic soles slowed him down considerably. Finally he went into the vault. It contained many boxes and other items, but everything was arranged about a plinth.
An empty plinth.
It was made of steel-still Leman Rus` gauntlets left deep marks on it when they hit it in utter frustration.

Brother Erik did not see or hear about this. The Wulf Guard Terminator was guarding one of the huge corridors that lead to the ships bridge together with a squad of likewise armored giants. Even the bulky Terminator suits were dwarfed by the way which had been designed to conduct the comings and goings of thousands of crewmembers and the passage of huge constructs and parts. He was alert, in great shape and his ancient armor and weapons were in prime condition.
And yet his mind was in a place it had not been for a long time-probably not until his induction into the Chapter. He was in deep awe-in awe of the Primarch that had so suddenly appeared in their midst, in awe of standing inside a ship that had served the Great Wolf when the Emperor was still walking among men and in awe that this was the Wolftime, the battle at the end of the World that Leman Rus had prophesized them when he went on his great hunt.

None of this kept him from reacting to the sight in front of him in no time-and yet none of it would count for anything at the end. From the dark far end of the corridor his auspex showed barely heated shapes that moved towards his position.
The shapes were not moving gracefully or at great speed, instead pulling limbs that did no longer have the full range of movement, adjusting courses that faulty sensors had plotted towards the walls and avoiding others that had the same problems.
The shapes had uneven temperatures that were displayed as different colors in Erik`s display, showing where arcane processes powered the ancient machines-and that they had to be. The angular shapes, the immense size and their movement left no other explanation.
"Brother Captain Wolfgar, this is Sergeant Erik. We have movement of at least 20 constructs down the corridor 1/3 towards our position. We cannot ascertain their intent, asking for orders"
"Brother Sergeant, hold you position until relive, so not open fire. We will contact the Primarch."
Sergeant Erik would not hear the commo traffic of his superiors who tried to contact a living legend in the grips of despondency, so he was reduced to watch the approaching figures.
"Stand fast Brothers, do not let yourself be provoked."

The figures lurched inexorably forward and came to a stop only a few meters in front of Erik`s position. By now the visual spectrum light from the Terminator suits had revealed the constructs in greater detail. About the size of a Cyborg their limbs were slimmer and their figures more bend forward. While they had a humanoid layout their bearing and the way they moved reminded him more of a praying mantis. The long blades attached to the lanky limbs just reinforced the impression.
They resembled the robots that had been used by the Legio Cybernetica during the Heresy, but what these age-old fighting machines were doing on a former Flagship of the Space Wolves was beyond the Space Marine Sergeant.
"Brother Captain, the contacts will reach our position in 30 seconds-any change in orders?"
"None Brother Sergeant"
"Contacts have now stopped Brother Captain"
"So noted Brother Sergeant. Hold your position until further orders."
Brother Erik was no coward-no Space Marine, let alone a Space Wolf was, but he felt uneasy under the gaze of the machines, who knew what inhuman logic paths were followed by their ancient cybernetic "brains". The dark openings of visual sensors swiveled back and forth, the red lines of a laser scanner played over the Terminators, having second passes over their weapons.
And then it stopped. Erik was about to breathe easier when the blade of the foremost robot connected with the chest of his armor and sent him flying.

All around him explosions and beams lit up the corridor in a hellish stroboscope.
Lifting his Storm Bolter he fired a long rapid-fire salvo of explosive shells at his attackers. Some armor plates were dented, a visual sensor sparked and dropped from his housing but the attacks by the Robot continued. The Sergeant managed to regain his footing and avoided a second stroke by the same blade. Sparks at the blades connection to the assailants arms indicated what had saved the Marine`s life so far, the energy field that should have surrounded the blade had failed to form. That was a good thing as then the sword would have opened his armor like an egg. But even so the blade could be deadly if it hit the wrong way and the muzzle of an unknown energy weapon that extended over the mechanical giants shoulders threatened another chance for an early death.
Bending forward and stepping closer at the same time he managed to smash his power fist into the knee that was chest-high to him. The working energy field that surrounded him allowed to penetrate the armor protecting the limb and he pulled cables and actuators out when he pulled his arm back. He stepped back in time so he was not buried under the falling robot.

Assessing the situation via the autosenses of his helmet he saw that Brother Hrak was dead, that Brother Harald was shooting at another Robot with his Assault Cannon and had opened the workings of the fighting machines power source to the void and that Brother Bengdt was transfixed through his leg by a sword but was ripping the arms off his enemy with his Lightning Claws. And to make things more fun even more Robots had reached the scene.
Firing his Storm Bolter into the back of the machine that held Bengdt he moved between his Brothers and the oncoming machines. He was about to decide which monstrosity to attack next when his wireless set finally gave some indication that command had noted their plight.
"Step back Brother and be quick about it." A fast glance showed him why this was advisable. Bigger than any Space Marine but smaller than the Robots Leman Rus barreled down the corridor, followed by other Space Wolves who tried in vain to put themselves between their Primarch and whatever danger there was.
Leman Rus got to cut the leg of one Robot and blasted the head of another till everybody noted that the mechanical attackers had stood down.
The wireless transmission was scratchy, toneless and mechanical, but still easy enough to understand. "What are your commands Primarch?"