In the long twilight of its vigil, as material reserves dwindled toward non-existence, the Augus intelligence finally ceased to respond. Physical degradation had begun to compromise its logic modules. Before its total systemic collapse, Augus had managed to shunt a few residual subprocesses into its remaining functional hardware, a final, desperate measure to sustain the base's most basic functions.
The GST-33 Regression-class Flotilla, finding its hulls locked within the starport and the central core unresponsive, had opted for deep hibernation. Its automated systems had severed all power, plunging the vessels into a tomb-like silence. It was possible that GST-33 never truly intended to awaken again.
But such intentions were irrelevant.
Through direct physical interface, Axion rapidly usurped control of the entire Augus base, simultaneously initiating a comprehensive data-overwrite of the defenseless GST-33. Beyond the flotilla itself, Axion located the base's master protocol hub and data-archiving center within the fractured digital ruins of Augus.
In the parallel access shafts, the fleeing Chaos forces were instantly detected. Still-functional sensors easily identified the presence of the Imperial traitors. Their guardian mechanical escort had been whittled down to fewer than thirty battered units.
Axion's initial strategic impulse was to re-calibrate the gravity arrays, turning the thirty-kilometer-wide, two-thousand-kilometer-deep shafts into colossal repulsor-accelerators that would violently eject everything within them. However, the presence of the Dark Angels and loyalist Imperial mortals forced him to discard this option.
Instead, he deactivated the gravity dampeners in specific sectors, unlocking the central void of the shafts. Swarms of Heavy Combat Drones surged into the open space, hurtling toward the Chaos warband still embroiled in their desperate skirmish with the last of the local guardians.
"My Lord, the auspex shows multiple high-velocity targets closing fast!" a traitor, his brow already sprouting the twisted horns of Warp-taint, shouted from his vehicle toward Falkus Kibre.
"Enemy strength?" Kibre's voice rumbled through the vox-caster.
The mortal rebel shrieked in terror. "Too many! Thousands! They outnumber our entire host!"
Through the tactical data-link of his Terminator Plate, Kibre's HUD suddenly flared with a dense cloud of red icons. The silhouettes of the Heavy Combat Drones filled his vision, a geometric wall of incoming death. The warriors of the Black Legion had encountered these terrifying Iron Man craft before. In the void, these drones could shear through lances and macro-cannons with surgical ease. On the surface, his warband would be reduced to slag in seconds.
Switching to a private vox-channel, Kibre's command reached his two Terminator squads. "Reposition. I am prepping the teleport. And bring that useless Magos with us. The Warmaster will need him to sate his fury."
The arrival of the drones signaled the absolute failure of the mission. Kibre made his decision instantly: they were leaving. Someone had to answer for this disaster, and even as one of Abaddon's Chosen Sons, Kibre knew the Warmaster's wrath would not be easily mollified. The most pragmatic solution was to offer the unreliable Magos as a scapegoat. How much of the priest remained intact afterward was none of his concern.
The Black Legion Terminators brutally tore open the armored transport housing Magos Pholios. Seeing his research so violently interrupted, the Magos's mechanical frame jittered with sudden realization.
"Abaddon was never to be trusted," Pholios hissed.
"Do not presume to gauge the Warmaster's wisdom! You will answer for your greed and your lies," a Black Legionnaire spat.
But deep within Pholios's chassis, a nightmare construct of living metallic cables, a small, ancient device hummed to life. A brilliant flash of light leaked from the seams of his mechanical body.
"No! Seize him!" a legionary roared.
They were a second too late. As the light faded, Magos Pholios was gone.
A coward of Pholios's caliber never truly risked his life without an escape. He had concealed an ancient, single-occupant teleporter within his frame, a relic plundered from an Adeptus Mechanicus dig-site. After years of careful study, Pholios had anchored the device's base station aboard his own Ark. Within a certain range, this dark-tech artifact could pull him back to the base station, regardless of whether he was in realspace or the Warp.
The moment he arrived, Pholios seized manual control of his Ark Mechanicus. The vessel tore open a localized warp-pocket and plunged into the empyrean tides, abandoning the fleet.
Pholios's sudden flight caught even Abaddon off guard. Furthermore, the maneuver instantly betrayed the location of the hidden Chaos fleet. Devastating beams of light instantly saturated the exit of the pocket-space, detonating dozens of Chaos warships in a single, blinding barrage.
…
Down in the planetary depths, Kibre struck a heavy dent into the transport vehicle upon hearing that Pholios had escaped. With a growl, he retrieved a specialized chest.
Within was a Chaotic artifact gifted to Abaddon by Erebus of the Word Bearers. It was a relic capable of manifesting a localized Warp-breach for rapid assault or extraction. Since the "self-exile" of Lorgar, the traitorous Word Bearers had operated under the shadow of the Dark Council. Though the Legion had not splintered into countless warbands like others, it was effectively split between the factions of First Captain Kor Phaeron and Erebus.
Erebus, ever the devoted sycophant of the Dark Gods, sought to serve and be rewarded by the Ruinous Powers. As the Warmaster of Chaos Undivided, Abaddon received his total, if self-serving, cooperation. Knowing the peril of this mission, Abaddon had entrusted this specific tool to Kibre.
As Kibre opened the chest, a twisted, blasphemous idol within began to glow with a sickening light. The sorcerous rite ignited, and the two Terminator squads vanished from realspace in an instant.
The remaining Chaos rebels had no idea their commanders had fled. The mortal cultists and the remnants of the World Eaters warband were quickly incinerated, reduced to ash by the relentless plasma fire of the Heavy Combat Drones.