Axion allowed the sub-logic to pilot the vessel, keeping it nestled within the battleship's sensor shadows to evade incoming fire, while his own core processors engaged in frantic analysis.
His internal database contained an array of weapon profiles capable of inflicting critical damage upon a construct of this magnitude; even a Star-Crushing Cannon was not beyond his theoretical reach. However, no matter how he calculated the vessel's energy output, it was insufficient to power a single shot. Furthermore, retrofitting such weaponry would require the deconstruction of a massive portion of the hull. Given the limited supply of nanites at his disposal, the battleship above would likely be atomized before Axion could finish transforming his craft into a firing platform.
Axion cared little for the destruction of Imperial vessels, but his collaborator remained aboard. Roboute Guilliman could not be allowed to perish, not yet. Axion had only just secured ship wreckage and regained his space-faring mobility through cooperation with the Primarch.
Finding no victory conditions using his own armaments, Axion turned his analytical gaze toward the Imperial warships above.
"Collaborator Guilliman. Requesting access to the weapon ordnance manifests of all vessels. This unit requires sufficient parameters to calculate a strategic solution. If the probability of victory remains critically low, this unit advises an immediate tactical withdrawal. Based on the Cooperation Protocol, this unit will prioritize your continued survival."
Guilliman hesitated at the request. After a moment of solemn contemplation, he signaled his consent. In the time they had spent together, the Primarch had learned specific linguistic protocols from certain Tech-Priests of the Legio Cybernetica, who had offered unique counsel on communicating with such entities.
"You are granted temporary authorization to access all shipboard armory data. Access is restricted to data retrieval only. Validity period: one Terran hour."
Axion paused as he processed the response.
This mode of communication was familiar—it possessed clear, rigid boundaries. It was a style of discourse that mirrored the logic-patterns of the Iron Men.
The Cybernetica priests had warned Guilliman: if the entity was indeed a Silica Animus, all directives must be absolute. Any misinterpretation of data could lead to a catastrophic outcome. Guilliman made no effort to conceal his wariness, but the current theatre of war was a one-sided slaughter. Every counter-strike had proven futile. With withdrawal as his only other option, he chose to place a sliver of trust in Axion, despite knowing that opening the armory manifests would expose the fleet's firepower configurations and structural vulnerabilities.
Axion was indifferent to Guilliman's suspicion.
The moment authorization was granted, Axion initiated a data-intrusion across the entire fleet. He moved with such speed and precision that the Machine Spirits and Tech-Priests of the Imperial ships remained entirely oblivious.
Guilliman did not realize that Axion was using this method to harvest information, nor did he understand that Axion's request for authorization was a necessity of the Cooperation Protocol. Without explicit consent, the Iron Man was restricted from taking any action that might threaten his collaborator. Since the broader human population had yet to be verified and accepted by his core logic, Axion could not execute high-level commands by force; he was bound to seek the collaborator's own mandate.
Using the capital ships as signal amplifiers and massive stationary communication arrays, Axion's control radius expanded to cover half the star system.
While cataloging the fleet's ordnance, Axion attempted to breach the Ark of Omen construct. However, the instant a data link was established, a deluge of chaotic, discordant data surged toward Axion's core.
Relying on his isolated sandbox systems, Axion successfully severed the connection and began analyzing the captured packets.
The results were abysmal. The Ark of Omen possessed nothing resembling a coherent control system. Its data was a nightmare of self-replicating corrupted code and a hodgepodge of garbled information, interspersed with fragmented data-streams from the countless shipwrecks fused into its hull. The chaos was so profound that even Axion could not achieve data integration. He found it logically incomprehensible that a vessel of this size could function using such a cacophony of gibberish.
The Chaos Machine Spirits, however, were far more predatory than their Imperial counterparts. They immediately alerted the daemons within to the digital intrusion, then joined their warp-born masters in mocking laughter, waiting for the "joke" to unfold. Usually, it was scrapcode and electronic daemons that invaded others; to be invaded in return was a novelty. Any machine tainted by such Warp-touched data would normally face instant corruption.
But Axion, who had previously endured the gaze of Khorne, was unaffected. His internal data iterated at lightning speed. Programs he had once compiled as simple scripts had evolved into an impenetrable fortress, easily purging the chaotic data.
After deleting the corrupted files, Axion redirected his processing power to the Imperial weapon profiles. Amidst the vast arrays of munitions, he quickly identified the most suitable asset.
"Guilliman. I have a suggestion with a success probability exceeding 85.82%. The probability of enemy withdrawal post-impact exceeds 99.934%."
The comms channel reopened less than thirty seconds after authorization had been granted. Guilliman's stunned expression betrayed his amazement at the Iron Man's efficiency.
"What is your proposal?"
"That I deploy two Cyclonic Torpedoes."
Guilliman's face clouded with doubt. It was not surprising that the fleet carried such weapons; the Dawn of Fire held several. However, Cyclonic Torpedoes were massive and lumbering. Even standard Imperial void torpedoes were slow by the standards of space warfare, and Cyclonic variants were significantly more sluggish. While these weapons of Exterminatus possessed the power to crack worlds, they were only effective if they struck the target.
The Ark of Omen was gargantuan, but it was not slow, certainly not slower than a Cyclonic Torpedo. The majority of the fleet's standard torpedoes had already been intercepted, and macro-cannon shells and lance beams were yielding no results. The enemy's return fire was not only sustained but increasing in intensity.
"Given the velocity of a Cyclonic Torpedo, a hit is impossible. There is no tactical feasibility in this plan."
Guilliman, recalling the specifications of the Imperium's ultimate sanction, rejected the idea without hesitation.
In response, he saw, for the first time, an unreadable silence settle over the Iron Man's metallic visage. It was as if Axion had lost interest in the conversation entirely.
"Authorize the Cyclonic Torpedoes to me," Axion repeated, looking intently at Guilliman. "I shall be the one to launch them."
This time, Guilliman grasped the distinction.
Glancing at the frantic vox-traffic on the bridge and the flickering void shields of the surrounding ships, Guilliman nodded.
In the armories of the Dawn of Fire, Tech-Marines and priests of the Mechanicus were suddenly gripped by terror. Two Cyclonic Torpedoes were unceremoniously dumped from their launch tubes directly into the void. The priests frantically interrogated the Machine Spirit through the data-loom.
The ship's Machine Spirit was equally bewildered.
The Tech-Marines only discovered the cause after the torpedoes had drifted into space: a command had just arrived at the cogitator terminals from the bridge, ordering the immediate jettisoning of the ordnance.