"Time immemorial has seen humanity repeatedly declare their next evolution, it always proves an inaccurate assessment. I believe, this time, that I have indeed found that next evolution. Through endless toil and study, across my time crossing the endless void I have realized that if we cease resisting the immutable truth we will achieve that which proto-humans dreamed of when they first gazed up at the sky. We must acknowledge that the Omnissiah created all things, and the alien has already denied the flow of time."

From, De rebus machinis et xenaritis. Written by Archmagos Battista Albrecht Ghetaldi, 348.M36

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The scent of burning flesh and ozone was all she could recall. Even here, standing on the craftworld she'd grown to see as a protecting hand. A constant symbol of the sworn protection of the Asuryani, for untold millennia they stood a vigil over the planet's main hub of civilization. Where the Exodites gathered for trade, governance, and planetary affairs. Reports from the Farseers were grim, an attack was coming to the capital. They were sure of that, so they'd set up defenses. An entire fleet would be rendered useless in the face of their might.

Then the Machine Cult's ships blotted out the moon on the world's opposite side.

Fiachyth had been hand selected by a warlock to be trained as a Storm Guardian, to learn the ways of war and combat. Train with the finest weaponry, the techniques used by their ancient ancestors, and how to best work with the great mounted beasts the Exodites raised. The first few to die had been from her village. She'd known those warriors from her childhood, those from other villages lasted slightly longer in the initial attack but were soon cut down. She stared at the planet's surface, it was marred and burned by the mon'keighs' explosives. Somehow she couldn't think of that, she was too busy kicking herself for running away.

She'd been told to, eventually. But that didn't change what she did, she left her entire squad to die. She still felt the sting of guilt, and seeing her planet made it relentlessly gnaw at her mind. While in the human ship she could distract herself with ideas of revenge and hatred for the cybernetic monsters. Her fist clenched, tight enough for her nails to dig into her flesh and draw blood. She could do nothing to drown it out, the sounds she could ignore, the sights would fade, that smell… That would haunt her until she went to the Soulstones.

An armored hand grabbed her by the shoulder and shook slightly, "Hey. Cousin, you still with us?" Caenryx crossed his arms, "The Clown won't wait forever kid. Sounds like they've got an answer for us on your mystery relic." Fiachyth looked aside, Harlequins were always a group she wanted nothing to do with. Yes they were funny at times and their arts were a spectacle that any Eldar would relish the chance to see. But over the years she began to find their cryptic nature irritating.

"I'll… I'll just stay here, I'd probably make them angry somehow."

"You need to hear what they have to say, it'll be important." Fiachyth sighed, but had no good arguments. So when Caenryx motioned for her to follow, she did. Walking deeper and deeper into the Craftworld, down into the darker parts of this ancient place. Where the sounds of unknowable music echoed faintly from afar, ancient poems and ballads of old. All tinged with the sounds of death, as if centuries were unfolding as they walked through sound. They broke through a final door to a dimly lit cathedral. Shadows danced in flickering lights as the troupe danced within those shadows.

A performance to not only commemorate the fall of a precious maiden world, but to try and raise the spirits of the assembled Exodites. Most of whom were recovering from the shock of losing their homes. The work had gone slowly, especially given the overbearing radiation fields left behind by the Cult Mechanicus. As Caenryx and, reluctantly, Fiachyth approached the rear of the assembled crowd a stark white mask broke through the darkness before them. Almost out of nowhere, the visage of the Laughing God's face stood before them.

Daybreak's Headsman spun and bowed in a very over exaggerated manner. Their cloak billowing and flashing the multicolored patterns underneath, Caenryx didn't react though he could always appreciate the Rillietanns' flair for the dramatic. He preferred antagonism, but there was something appealing about the idea of dazzling an opponent with grandiosity before eliminating them. The Solitaire lingered in his bow for a beat, "So it comes that the curtain drops across the first act of this grim play. A warrior of the old ways, and a warrior of evil in olden days. A duo of delicious irony if ever one existed. Come to our stage for answers, leaving with questions. An exchange repeated with every performance, we've spun this dance many times. Endlessly spinning towards disaster sublime."

Caenryx nodded along, internally rolling his hands in a "get on with it" gesture but not daring to carry the action out physically. He could never tell what slight would set the Harlequin off. Their performances, though not always carrying an element of death with them, were prone to changing on the whims of something as powerful as a solitaire. Caenryx was confident in his expertise in the ways of war and combat, but the masked visage before him belonged to something far beyond even his abilities.

"So we're on a path towards disaster, how exactly do we avoid it?" Caenryx asked, a bit more bluntly than many would, but he had worked with Daybreak's Headsman's troupe before. Sometimes, to get an answer out of them you had to express it directly. It didn't work all the time, Caenryx figured it hardly worked half the time but it was better than listening to a string of seemingly nonsense for who knew how long. The Solitaire shook his head, "Such bluntness is unbecoming of a being whose life has yet to fully detach from the misery of the Dark City. Pity. You cannot, avoiding what is to come goes against the script. The actors are in place, when the time is right you will be the final face. Leap through space, to the world of naught but disgrace. Her denizens dead, her sun dim, many come to a head, fooled to a fate grim."

Caenryx was about to prompt the Headsman for a clearer answer, but Fiachyth suddenly cut him off. Making a pit wrench at the center of his solar plexus. "Dispense with the riddles, ancient one, the creatures that caused the destruction below must be brought to justice for what they've done." Fiachyth's voice was tinged with the barely contained rage that had been building from the moment she laid eyes on her homeworld again. Caenryx was ready for the Harlequin to lash out or make her an example, but he chuckled instead.

"Bearer of the old ways, your thirst for blood is familiar and admirable. But your vengeance must wait until the final act of our show. The relic possessed by the mon'keigh is far worse than you know. An enemy ancient, beyond and apart from time. Your ancestors were instrumental in its defeat, before the mon'keigh's seer fell to his throne." Caenryx raised an eyebrow, but the Solitaire continued, in a far less jovial tone.

A full explanation of an ancient battle that occurred here, the more Caenryx and Fiachyth learned about the relic their enemies contained. The more they began to realize, to their shared horror, that if the Cult Mechanicus were to succeed in their goals, they would accidentally doom themselves, this craftworld, the Cackling Squall, and what remained of her people. All dead before an enemy they fought and barely contained once, now hungry for its own revenge.

Soon after, Caenryx and Fiachyth left the performance hall, each one processing the information in different ways. Fiachyth's rage had been replaced with fear, an enemy as powerful as the Harlequin described would be unstoppable. If it came for them after destroying the humans, they'd be powerless in their weakened state. The exodites were barely starting to reclaim the scorched sections of their planet, it would take the help of the Craftworld's great technologies to terraform their home back to the way it was.

That didn't leave them many opportunities for defense, especially with the farseers of the craftworld all dying to the human assassins. She saw nothing but an inevitable end, as she was confident in the humans' abilities to be fools who poked around things that they had no business with. Caenryx was calmer on the surface, yes the relic opening would be an absolute disaster and would probably end in his death but that just meant he was on a timer. An unknown timer but he hadn't failed yet, he had time. A valuable resource for any assassination job.

As they walked, they passed by Uroth. Caenryx shook himself back to normal, Fiachyth slid her helmet on. "Feeling alright after that webway portal Uroth?" Caenryx prodded with a grin. Uroth sighed, "You have to go back to that ship you know, we're still missing the relic."

Caenryx put up his index finger, "But! We have the missing soulstone." Fiachyth nodded and showed Uroth the glowing stone, the Wayseeker reached out for it but she snatched it back protectively. "She's still recovering from the shock of what happened, it's been a long few days right?" Caenryx said, "Cousin, why don't you return the soulstone to the matrix while Uroth and I discuss our plans going forward?"

Fiachyth nodded and left the two, almost immediately Caenryx crossed his arms and stared at Uroth, "Don't."

"Don't what, Caenryx?"

"Don't suggest what I know you're about to suggest."

Uroth shook his head, "It's the only way to guarantee success of the mission. I'm not doubting you, Caenryx, I'm just saying we need to treat this like a potential disaster if even the slightest thing goes wrong."

Caenryx waved a hand dismissively and started down the hall again, "Smaller teams operate better when inserting themselves into hostile battlegrounds. There's another force that stands against the mon'keigh cult, I saw it for myself. They have other enemies that probably have their destination in their control. A smaller team has a better chance of getting around undetected, it leaves defenders here in a worst case scenario… And it keeps more of you all safe."

Uroth was silent for a moment, before he exhaled sharply and looked aside, "Lost god take you, I hate it when you're right. I'll do what I can from here to guide your hand where it needs to go. Who did you have in mind to go with you?"

Caenryx grinned, seemingly back to his normal self, "You seen Duskshot around anywhere?"

Epsilon stood in the room just before the astropaths' chambers, instructions had been left for those who managed communications to let the rest of the fleet know about the malfunction and Dark Mechanicum attack, conveniently he left out the presence of the Eldar in his report. He was leaving to regroup with his Skitarii until a faint glimmer of light caught in the corner of his enhanced vision. It was a bead of lingering data, small and dim. Barely readable, it seemed like long distance communications, a signal transmitted to a receiver from one of the stronger Vox Stations on board Praeco Voltaic. He'd seen data beads like this, he transmitted them himself to his servo skull and it in turn sent similar communications back.

He glanced around, just in case a stray skull was in the area in a loop or looking for new protocols. He saw none, he didn't recognize the code or the identifiers within the data. He inloaded the noospheric signal for later, perhaps the Magos would know more. As he did, he saw another glimmer of data, from the ship itself. A warm calm code, he'd seen these as well. Near the Magos whenever he interacted with the ship. Though with the Magos nowhere nearby he wasn't sure what was causing Praeco Voltaic's machine spirit to be in a good mood.

As he turned once more, the vox buzzed. He couldn't hear it before but it was as if the Vox had been transmitting the entire time. Encoded signals, then he realized. That bead of data was inlaid with cryptographic keys, now he was able to hear the transmission.

"Planetfall… Basilisks… Imminent… Expl- … Fleet… Isolate-..."

Code fragments, Epsilon sighed. Complete transmissions would have been useful, but these splintered and partial signals were annoying at best to determine any meaning from.

"Magos… Dominus… Detain… Send…. Hunt- … Alive… Recover… Cinder-"

Epsilon paused halfway out the door, a Magos Dominus? Detainment? Epsilon was hesitant to believe in coincidences normally, but a Dark Mechanicum incursion happening right before he picked up encrypted communications saying to capture a Dominus was beyond any reasonable suspicion. He figured there were still agents that wanted Quill, he wasn't prepared to let that happen. They would scour the ship, top to bottom, every centimeter of Praeco Voltaic. He stormed out with renewed resolve and a light burning anger towards their enemy from the schism. He didn't hear the final transmission.

"Recover… Cinder- … Heart… Relic… Immedi-"

After a brief march down the long hallways, Epsilon rejoined the elite guard he left to patrol. Vetra had joined them now, bearing iconography that denoted her as the team's Alpha Unit, a single black streak ran down her red robes in the back, even staining part of the cog trim. She saluted, as did the others. Her new upgrades shined in the faint light, which would last until her first engagement. Everyone in the Mechanicus could tell when an augmetic was new.

"High Marshal, patrol routine completed, no signs of further danger in present quadrant." Vetra said. Epsilon nodded, "Fall in, Skitarii personnel requested at Magos Tahr'kull's sanctum."

They set off with their usual steel clanging march, perfect lockstep. Though it was unnecessary, it was what they'd all grown used to.

"Unit Vetra, present diagnostics." This was the closest anyone in the Mechanicus came to asking a genuine, "How are you doing?" which is what Epsilon meant. Even if he wasn't one to use those kinds of human phrases himself.

"Alpha Unit Vetra is operating at greater than expected optimal levels. Blessings of the Omnissiah have been placed upon me, praise the Machine God."

Epsilon nodded, satisfied with that answer, "Praise the Omnissiah."

Soon, they arrived before the great doors to the sanctum, and entered without waiting on proper clearance. The Skitarii were unsettled by the breach of standard protocol but Epsilon seemed completely unphased. Inside the sanctum, the generator was awake once more. The bodies of the dead electro-priests had been collected for burial rites, and Quill stood in the center. Immersed in the overwhelming amount of electricity. Glowing Electoos lined what was left of his skin, protecting him from what would normally score and destroy human flesh.

"Ah, Epsilon, Vetra. Thank you for joining me with such expediency, we have much to discuss and plan."

"Magos, I intercepted a fragmented vox transmission. Indication is that Dark Mechanicum enemies are still present within this ship, we must prepare hunter cohorts to scour the lower decks. Execute menials, and ensure their presence is crushed before they can enact their plans. Which appears to be to apprehend you and steal an item of interest from you."

Quill nodded, "I … See, that is concerning. I had hoped, perhaps a bit foolishly, that it was a minor scouting party that had made it aboard. Seems we were infiltrated in more ways than one. I believe it is in our best interests to gather data before we go planetside. If the Dark Mechanicum holds power on this world, we should avoid walking into a hive of the vermin."

Epsilon nodded, "Then, how do we gather such information?" Quill glanced aside at where he had stashed the stone relic, normally he'd suggest communing with the ancient spirit but now he wasn't sure. What had happened in the tomb had frightened him, made him hesitate to trust the spirit. Perhaps those Eldar were right. Immediately he shook his head and chastised himself for such heretical thoughts.

"I… We must prepare to cleanse the ship. I will commune with Praeco Voltaic itself for guidance on where we can find these creatures. Have Xor assemble a team of Sicarians, prepare a kill team of Skitarii for the lower decks, and prepare to descend to the planet.

"Magos?" Epsilon asked curiously.

"You will lead a small scouting party, take a stealth craft and quietly observe the manufactorum while I search for data on this planet and direct our efforts to exterminate the enemy. Should you find any resistance, prioritize evacuating back to this position. We must play this carefully. I suspect we are standing in the middle of a spider's web, and any direction presents the chance for ensnarement if we're not careful.

Epsilon hesitated for a moment, he really hated the idea of leaving Quill on his own after an attempt on his life and now a potential plot to kidnap him. Though, on the other hand he couldn't deny the chance to analyze the planet's potential as a battlefield did intrigue him.

"Magos, request for one condition to be fulfilled." Quill paused and looked back curiously, he'd never heard Epsilon ever ask for anything before. It actually amused him a bit.

"Requirement for this plan, Magos must be accompanied by any elite guard that remain on this ship plus a detachment of battle servitors." Quill chuckled, "Seems a bit overkill, no? Oh very well, I'll have an accompanying group with me, anyone that tries to cause trouble will be left as little more than a pile of ashes and viscera."

Epsilon nodded, "Vetra, you and three others will join me planetside, we set out immediately. Magos, I've prepared a data transfer containing the encryption key and vox signal from the transmission I intercepted. Request for analysis when possible."

"I'll take it to the foremost expert in signals on this ship," Quill said excitedly, "I haven't had a chance to visit Magos Ceth in many cycles! This will be an intriguing investigation, a plot is forming. We will waste no time in breaking it wide open. Now get to it, the sooner we collect our data the sooner we can begin to diagnose a way out of here."

Vetra stepped forward, which got both Epsilon and Quill's attention. "High Marshal, Honored Magos, request for information. What is preventing us from translating into the warp once more and rejoining the fleet without doing as the traitorous Mechanicum wants us to do?"

Quill's emitter augmetic projected a holographic readout of the ship in the air between the group, "Because, the ship's warp drive was partially dismantled. No doubt the work of hereteks, Omnissiah only knows what they'll sabotage next. We must stop them and ensure they're all wiped out before we can begin repairs and reawakening rituals. It will take quite a lot of slow work and diagnostics to guarantee safe warp travel."

That made sense to Vetra, she'd suspected there was some level of sabotage once she'd read the incident report, but their warp drive? That was worse news than she was prepared for.

"Alpha Unit thanks you for the explanation, Magos."

"No thanks are needed. Information is the goal of all acolytes of the Machine God. Refusing to ask questions is antithetical to our very doctrines."

Vetra saluted, "Acknowledged, Magos. Alpha Unit Vetra will prepare to descend." Epsilon silently sent a command for the Skitarii to go and prepare for their assignments. Once they were out, Epsilon approached the generator and was electrocuted in the same way as quill. Sparks danced over his circuit inlined robes, his augmetics sparked and arced between each other. Under his armor his own Electoos glowed unseen.

"Magos, this plan is dangerous."

"I know, old friend, I dislike admitting it but we are blind here. We have enemies on all sides, an unknown vessel opposite us, an unknown vessel on the planet's surface, and too many things are beginning to make sense about recent events in our lives. I fear we are being maneuvered against our will."

Epsilon pondered his current situation, they were surrounded by unknowns and enemies. Cut off from the rest of their fleet's power, and completely unaware of their current celestial coordinates. Blind was the best descriptor the magos could have chosen for their current predicament. "Understood Magos, I will send you live updates and plan our invasion strategy as I have more ideas. The Dark Mechanicum are known for daemonology and foul heretek, I suggest a policy of unmitigated annihilation. Orbital bombardment would be wise."

"After we have our information," Quill said quickly, "The Omnissiah must have cause for directing us down this path. We should see what it is before we make any rash decisions. Dismissed, High Marshal. I'll begin my analysis of matters here at once." Epsilon saluted and left to rejoin the Skitarii and form their two teams.

High in the atmosphere hung the Machine Cult's capital ship, Elatus couldn't help but stare worried at it. At any point, if the Mechanicus found out there were Dark Mechanicum present here they would likely try to glass everything here with orbital fire. The hatred between the two cults ran deep, Elatus considered ways to use that to his advantage. A small group of his warband stalked along the stone crags and black dust carried by faint winds.

Elatus led a group of five legionnaires, to his right Telemateus and Scylia were at the head of a group of human agents, and Medon had his personal chosen close by. They'd volunteered to go planetside while the rest of the crew of Deception's Venom searched for what remained of their loyal Mechanicum forces. Each of them had a chameleonic cloak on and weapons at the ready as they approached the looming manufactorum.

"This world's as pleasant as a warm season storm with none of the fun of drinking your way through it!" Scylia said over their private vox net.

"Elatus, could we not have landed closer?" Telemateus asked, "Or better than that, could we not have warp stepped? We could have launched a direct assault, shock tactics."

"Stick to the plan brother. We first have to infiltrate the Obsidian Whisper and siphon their data back to whoever the crew can find back aboard the Venom. Hopefully by then they find someone who can decipher something useful out of it for us."

From the corner of Elatus' visor, he saw Vaelith's form vaguely stalking them in the shadows. Somehow, the beast's honeyed voice pierced their vox and transmitted as if it was standing right next to them.

"This place… Something is wrong with it, it reeks of the other three." Vaelith said.

"It's likely a hub of Chaos Cultists and Dark Mechanicum experiments. I'd be alarmed if you didn't-," Elatus paused and glanced towards Vaelith, "What do you mean the other three?"

"I mean I sense the foul presence of rot, rage, and schemes. It's quite simple, I didn't think the concept was above you but I suppose I should expect as much from mortals." Elatus could tell the daemon was grinning in that infuriating smug satisfied way.

"But not excess?"

"No, I don't sense my kin on the planet."

Elatus shook his head and continued towards the Dark Mechanicum ship, Telemateus shot a hand up, bringing everyone to a stop. "... Incoming."

"Impossible," Elatus said, "We'd know if we'd been detected." Vaelith chuckled softly, "Telemateus is right, you do have incoming."

"Incoming what?" Elatus wouldn't have to wait long for his answer, through the ashen ground before them, broke hands of flesh and embedded wire. Numerous, soon becoming twenty, fourty, sixty in total. The things tore their way from the ground, emerging and coming into full view of the Alpha Legion. They wore base breastplates with the Cog Occultaris on them, blood red with silver trim. Basic black slacks and combat boots. Most of them were missing an arm, replaced with weaponry or hydraulic claws. All wore a mask of steel with singular optics that was welded shut around their heads. A low moan occasionally emerged from them as they walked forward, stumbling. With very little rhyme or reason, Elatus was the first to speak.

"What in the warp are those things?"

"Tech Thralls!" Telemateus shouted, "Mind wiped slaves, barely above a servitor. Though their equipment's not been seen since the heresy!"

"Real damn glad to be making history here, I'll go down as a famous explorer yet. Sink like one too!" Scylia shouted as she ducked for cover right as a las-lock rocked the stone before her. The humans and astartes all took up battle positions, and began to fire upon the encroaching humans. They were easy enough to kill, until they stood back up. Driven forward by machines embedded deep within their almost useless bodies.

Worse still, there was a rudimentary type of strategy to their advance. The guns were in the front, meaning the Alpha Legion's counterattack was less effective at killing the las-cutters, hydraulic claws, and maintenance machinery reformatted to serve a deadly purpose.

"Telemateus! Get your monster to do something!"

Telemateus sent a psychic command to Vaelith, who groaned with displeasure. They really were hoping to sit back and watch these pathetic mangled puppets tear the Basilisks limb from limb. Shame, Vaelith thought. They whipped their tail and prepared to lunge forward, when they did, a blast sent them hurtling back the way they came. The Astartes all looked to see where the blast came from, and they saw a large robotic titan standing a bit further away than normal.

"Telemateus?" Elatus asked hesitantly.

"It looks like a Thanatar, brother. But that's impossible, the Mechanicus and Mechanicum both lost the knowledge of how to make Thanatar siege robots many thousands of years ago."

"Then I'd ask you to explain what just made your monster eat a massive ball of searing plasma, my Lord." Scylia made a convincing argument. Elatus had to think of a plan, now. Otherwise they'd be torn apart.

"If we stay here we'll be blown to pieces in no time. Alpha Legion! Re-engage Chameleonic fields, Scylia, get a ritual going and scramble their optics!"

"Not sure what good that will do, Lord. They already spotted us through our illusions and cloaks, I wager they got some sorta thermal." Elatus nodded, "That's why you're going to bring us a very sudden heat wave."

"I uh… I'll do my best, Lord Telemateus' assistance would surely make it possible."

Telemateus made a mad dash to join Scylia and her agents and soon they were beginning a warp ritual. Including a psychic barrier against the relatively weak weapons of the Tech-thralls. The sorcerer shouted back at Elatus through the vox, "Just keep the thralls off of us, my warp barrier should keep us safe from the Thanatar."

"How long will this take?" Elatus asked.

"Longer than I would like, you will know once they lose visual contact with us. Servitors already get confused by that sort of thing easily, let us see if that carries over to automata and thralls!"

Chanting in an ancient tongue carried across the winds with the dust of battle, Elatus' armor alerted him to an unnatural rise in the temperature. The armor thought that may mean an impending fire or explosion, he knew that it was a sign their plan was working. On an unseen signal, he and his legionnaires re-engaged their chameleonic cloaks and sprinted to their left around the Thralls. The mind wiped humans continued shooting, but at where they were previously. Their shots were more sporadic, indicative of a being in distress. If these things could even feel distress.

Another encoded message was sent to the rest of the small band. Medon, halfway through butchering a Tech-thrall that had gotten too close for its own good, glanced aside and snarled. He'd enjoyed the brief bit of carnage he could spread, but disappeared from view a moment later. Survival took priority over the thrill of battle, even for someone like Medon. Telemateus vanished into his chameleonic field, as did the humans around him, Vaelith disappeared into a cloud of warp energy.

"Now where to, Lords?"

"The Obsidian Whisper," Elatus said, "We will hide there and make contact with Deception's Venom, we need Mechanicum personnel now more than we previously thought." They all made separate ways towards the landed cruiser. The Thanatar's Plasma Caster lobbed more shots at where they were, obeying a previously uploaded protocol that no longer made any sense to a rational mind. The mind of a human trapped within a purely mechanical body was anything but.

One by one, the different groups leapt down a small cliff face and rushed to get into the vessel, the attackers had stopped firing. The thralls' postures changed almost all at the same time, and their heads turned to face the way the Basilisks had gone in unison. For a beat, they stood there. Staring. Though oddly, the Thanatar turned, faced the ship, and didn't fire. It simply stood watching their direction.

The thralls eventually did begin moving once more. Elatus looked at the ship's main entrance, wondering how they'd get inside. Scylia answered for him, by disappearing into the warp. It was silent for a bit after that, until the boarding ramp lowered and Scylia was standing smug in the hanger. Next to two Dark Mechanicum Skitarii strangling on, well, Elatus didn't actually know what they were strangling on.

"Found these guys, decided to see what would happen if I made their breathing tubes go in further than they wanted. Results were pretty good I should say."

Elatus wasted no time directing everyone into the ship, "Kill anyone who resists or tries to slow us down and get that door closed! Seems they don't want to destroy their own vessel." For now, they had time. The ship seemed quiet, and less populated than normal. Elatus began to plan, if the Dark Mechanicum were to presume they were in power here, then it was time for the Alpha Legion to remind them why the Hydra was feared since before even the first space vessels left Terra.

An order was given silently between the mind of nine robotic soldiers, and their hidden master. Invaders had been spotted, and had eluded the initial responders. Alpha Legion, traitors, saboteurs, antithetical to the Machine God's will. Their orders were precise, simple: eliminate them all. Except for a sorcerer and human with them, everyone else could die. Jet boosters on their backs ignited with a low, powerful hum, propelling their metal bodies across the sky from a hangar in their manufactorum.

The heat from the forges contrasted starkly with the cold, dead air outside as they soared through the sky in perfect formation. The wind whistled past their sleek forms, and the ground below blurred into dark streaks. They crashed down before the cruiser with a synchronized impact, steel feet slamming into the ground and sending up plumes of dust. The area echoed with the sound of their arrival, a harsh, metallic chorus that was both incomprehensible and beautiful to their own twisted minds.

Analysis of the guard's corpses that laid before them suggested choking, then a shot or impaling. The Thallax hefted their Lightning Guns, the faint hum of the weapons a prelude to the carnage they were about to unleash. Their chain bayonets revved with a mechanical growl, a sound that once might have been satisfying when they had flesh. Steel feet slammed down as they surrounded the ship, and began sending hostile kill codes prepared by their master.

The ship resisted, as they had predicted. A vessel like this was used to dangerous machine language and occasionally a leak of scrap code. Lights flickered, and enraged noospheric code billowed into the air, but it showed no signs of giving in to their seeming attempts at control. It was robust, but they didn't, in reality, need to disable the ship, they simply needed to influence it enough to hide what they were ordered to do next.

Their master believed that those who currently infested this vessel made it worth destroying should the situation become unmanageable. So, with hostile code distracting the ship's systems, scanners were offline. The subtle vibrations of detection equipment fell silent, unable to detect the meltabombs being attached to the ship's hull.

Their primary directive was clear: capture the targets, kill the remainder. By any means necessary. Their presence was a silent promise of destruction, their reputation spanning ten thousand years. Thallax cohorts were inescapable.