Observing Thien's grim expression, the Captain swallowed nervously.
Thien, however, quickly regained his composure. Certain sentiments were best not displayed too obviously in front of non-Chapter personnel.
"I understand."
Taking the order parchment transcribed by a nearby Scribe-Servitor, Thien strode out of the Bridge, leaving the Captain standing there, looking concerned and perplexed.
The immediate problem Thien faced was not how to deal with the incoming Inquisition and Adeptus Mechanicus, but how to explain the situation to Axion and request that the automaton remain aboard the vessel for others to take custody of.
Axion was unlike any other ancient construct Thien had ever encountered.
Most ancient relics, be they ordinary mechanical devices, weapons, equipment, vehicles, or other machinery, lacked independent consciousness and did not operate autonomously.
But Axion was a machine-mind (A.I.).
He possessed independent mobility and his own will and objectives.
The most critical factor was whether he could be persuaded verbally to comply.
After all, Thien could not defeat him.
No one on the entire Oberon-class Battleship could defeat him.
The Iron Warriors, who were themselves demigods, were reduced to the level of mere cannon fodder, cleaved in two with a single stroke. Furthermore, Axion had, from the beginning, refused to acknowledge the Astartes as anything special, dismissing them with an insulting designation:
Inferior bio-gene soldiers.
It was that initial duel that led to the subsequent events, and it was that duel that allowed him to gauge Axion's true capabilities.
Thien was worried that if he failed to convince the automaton, he might provoke anger or a feeling of betrayal, leading to some unforeseen and disastrous event.
After all, he had promised to help Axion travel to the Chapter's Monastery and arrange for him to access the Chapter's archives to research historical data.
As Thien strode back toward his squad's temporary quarters, the side of the long corridor began to glow.
Light reflected by the Geller Field streamed through the corridor's viewports and into the ship's interior.
As the vessel fully immersed itself in the Warp, everything outside the Geller Field became a kaleidoscope of the grotesque.
The phantom image of the planet twisted and flowed like liquid, the stars grew dim, and unspeakable phantoms drifted around the ship's Geller Field perimeter.
They were too close to the Great Rift.
The power of Chaos spread everywhere; entering Warp travel here required immense courage and a sufficiently large vessel.
Only the Imperial Battleships could reliably perform solo Warp jumps.
Cruisers, Destroyers, and Frigates typically had to form convoys, mutually correcting their courses to ensure they were not lost in the surging, malevolent energies of the void.
Perhaps it was because of the recent attack by the Iron Warriors traitors, or perhaps for some other reason.
This particular transit seemed unusually stable.
The surging Warp energies streamed past the ship's hull without touching the Geller Field.
The Daemons of the Warp, against whom vigilance was usually necessary, showed no inclination to attack.
Even the Navigator on the Bridge felt a strange sensation.
It was smooth.
Too smooth.
Uncannily smooth.
To be the Captain of an Imperial Battleship implied vast command experience.
In his decades of service in the Imperial Navy, the Captain had never experienced such a peaceful Warp transit.
Not even the simple voyage when he was first selected to leave his home world and become a junior officer had been this uneventful.
He clearly remembered the time when he was traveling from the Imperial Frontier toward the more central regions, and they were attacked by Daemons.
Though it was only an Imperial Destroyer, and there were only a few dozen Daemons.
But his former commanding officer had given them this grim warning:
The Warp was filled with disorder and madness. Every journey was fraught with enormous peril.
The Daemons watched every vessel that entered the Warp with avarice. These damned creatures were ubiquitous and unpredictable.
But one must be wary of their sudden attacks at any moment.
"If you are unfortunate enough to encounter a large assault by Daemons or any attack from the Traitor Legions, you had best clamp your Imperial Identification tag between your teeth and pray for a clean death.
"If by some stroke of fortune the ship is later discovered and recovered by the Imperium, then perhaps the 'dog tag' in your mouth will spare the medical officer tasked with identifying the remains some effort."
Although he had encountered Daemon attacks on almost every voyage during his decades of service, most incidents involved a small cluster of Daemons suddenly manifesting, charging straight for the hull, and shattering against the Geller Field.
The most severe incident he had ever faced was when a small squad of Khorne Daemons managed to breach the hull.
But by then, he was already the Captain of a Lunar-class Cruiser.
His ship even carried a company of Salamanders Astartes, who were hitching a ride to another sector.
That experience was the first time he had witnessed the terrifying combat power of the Space Marines firsthand.
The Salamanders were not the only Astartes Chapter he had encountered, but they were definitely the most comfortable to be around.
Those warriors were full of humanity, even possessing sufficient compassion. The Chapter Chaplain had even willingly given a simple blessing to the Astra Militarum ground forces travelling with them before they went into battle.
The Captain pulled himself back from his stray thoughts, loudly instructing a nearby Servitor.
"Monitor the auspex situation closely. Report any anomaly immediately."
"Affirmative, my Lord," the Servitor's dry, mechanical voice replied from the control console below.
"Navigator, confirm our heading. We are too close to the Great Rift. One error and we will be damned for eternity!"
Perhaps due to the psychic influence, the Navigator's voice sounded ethereal.
"My Lord, the course is true. The psychic beacon is clear."
After responding to the Captain's inquiry, the Navigator paused, then spoke again.
"My Lord, in all my years as a Navigator, I have never seen the beacon shine so clearly."
The Navigator's words only amplified the Captain's inner apprehension.
The seemingly calm path ahead felt imbued with a strange, foreboding dread.
It was as if they were travelling a road to damnation, and even the Daemons had been hushed, waiting in unnatural silence.
Meanwhile, inside the ship, Thien was staring at Axion in shock.
"I need to confirm once more that you understand everything I have conveyed."
Axion extended a finger and pointed to the order parchment in Thien's hand.
"I comprehend that you are being transferred individually. An organization called the Inquisition will arrange for an individual, an Inquisitor, to arrive here with some Adeptus Mechanicus personnel to engage with me. I cannot depart with you and must remain on this vessel awaiting their deployment."
"I am a machine-mind; I possess independent sapience and store vast archives of data. Even in the ancient history of this cosmos, this is how affairs operated. Everyone is bound by circumstance, and I do not blame you. On the contrary, I commend your honesty. You did not attempt to deceive me."
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