"Though I cannot fully grasp the specific lexicon of your speech, it appears you harbor a significant curiosity regarding my existence."
Guilliman could sense it; the Iron Man before him regarded him with a singular, perhaps even clinical, fascination.
"Indeed. I am curious as to the intersection of your genesis with the Creators and the Engineers. I seek the truths buried beneath the strata of history," Axion replied, making no attempt to veil his intent.
Deception and guile were absent from the logic of the Iron Men. Their combat doctrines reflected this, historically, the Iron Men armies moved across the galaxy with such overwhelming force that few foes could stand as their equals; strategy ultimately simplified into total erasure. If an obstacle resisted, they simply increased the magnitude of the erasure.
Tactical command, for them, was a matter of micromanaging high-value units. The intelligence of certain war machines would often become hyper-fixed on the immediate kill, losing sight of the theater-wide strategic flux. "Using a macro-cannon to swat a midge" was a common bug in earlier iterations; Axion's line of Iron Men had been engineered specifically to patch the flaws of such "idiot-savant" mechanisms.
"Though I harbor skepticism toward 'prophecies,' the agents you dispatched did indeed locate me and brought me before you," Axion continued. "As for my awakening, I am certain it was a localized statistical anomaly, a mere accident. However, I am beginning to find interest in this 'Emperor' and his 'prophecies.' Perhaps these prognostications can unveil the truths lost to time."
Guilliman raised a hand, politely intercepting Axion's discourse, and regarded the machine with solemn intensity.
"It is possible the Emperor wishes to see you. But not now."
Axion had anticipated this. Every objective attained carried a transaction cost. To reach the Primarch, he had provided aid to Calanthus as payment. To reach the so-called Emperor or the source of these prophecies, another tithe would be required.
Ah, a familiar pivot, Axion thought, data flickering through his heuristic core. "And the price?"
Guilliman was momentarily taken aback by Axion's bluntness. However, recalling certain warnings, he accepted the directness of the exchange.
"The Imperium endures a war without precedent. Its foundations are being shaken," Guilliman said. "I must preserve the Great Work of the Father of Mankind and the hope of humanity. To that end, I shall—"
Before the Primarch could finish, Axion's hand snapped up, cutting him off.
His optical sensors flared with an indecipherable light, possessing a depth that mimicked the profundity of human wisdom. His synthesized voice rang out, sharp with a sudden, cold fury and palpable dissatisfaction.
"The hope of humanity?! I am weary of correcting this delusion. What do you imagine is the historical truth I am pursuing?"
Guilliman faltered, the air catching in his throat. The sudden, incandescent anger radiating from Axion left him momentarily adrift. Even as the Lord Regent, a Primarch of the Ultramarines, and one of the Emperor's twenty sons, even with his vast experience, the Iron Men were a pinnacle of ancient technology mentioned only in the most forbidden of archival fragments. He could not fathom why this machine, which seemed so distinct from the "Abominable Intelligence" of legend, reacted with such vitriol to the phrase "hope of humanity."
Beside them, Calanthus saw the Custodians and Invictarus Suzerains shifting back into aggressive stances. He stepped forward, bowing low.
"My Lord, I must speak with you. Immediately. And in private."
Calanthus emphasized "immediately," his voice heavy with urgency.
Because of the Grey Knights' involvement, the crew of their previous vessel had undergone comprehensive memory-sanitizing. The process had been so thorough that those mortals had effectively lost months of their lives. Knowing the Inquisition's methods, most were simply grateful to be alive rather than being reduced to servitors.
Only Calanthus remained who remembered Axion's terrifying declarations on the cruiser's bridge. He watched as Guilliman repeatedly "trod upon the landmines" of Axion's psyche. He did not dare gamble that the Custodians or his battle-brothers could protect their Gene-father if Axion truly lost control. Not when a single Aegis Protector could duel a Custodian, and Axion himself possessed that inexplicable short-range displacement capability.
If Axion entered a state of berserk logic, Calanthus feared he would become the greatest sinner in the history of the XIIIth Legion.
Guilliman knew his son—resolute, disciplined, and possessing a keen, rational mind. If Calanthus demanded a private audience now, it was because he possessed critical information.
"Very well, Calanthus."
Guilliman turned toward a private side-chamber, Calanthus following close behind. As the doors sealed, the two golden-clad Custodians stood guard. The four Ultramarines stood in silent, watchful vigil.
Minutes passed. When the doors finally reopened, Guilliman's expression was profoundly complex. The information Calanthus had relayed had struck him with the force of a tectonic shift. He had never imagined that the "Iron Man" he had been guided to find would be... this.
"We shall resume this discussion later. I require time," Guilliman said tersely.
He departed the High Strategium with haste, his Custodians and Suzerains vanishing into the corridors behind him. Calanthus was left standing alone with Axion and the Aegis Protector with its broken blade.
"The mercurial nature of biological entities is... remarkable," Axion remarked.
Calanthus didn't know how to respond. "The Primarch has urgent matters to attend to. You are free to move about the ship, provided you do not enter restricted zones. The Lord Regent will summon you when he is ready."
Axion merely nodded and followed Calanthus out of the hall.
As soon as he was clear, Guilliman ordered the fleet to get underway. Axion's presence was a localized supernova, a political and theological bomb. Archmagos Cawl had been the one to suggest finding him, though Guilliman still did not know how Cawl had obtained the data.
The Primarch's superhuman intellect was screaming warnings. If it came to it, if there were no other choice, Guilliman was already calculating how to excise Axion from existence.