The air above the Intelligent Control Corps suddenly ionized, molecules superheating in an instant as electrical potential built beyond critical threshold.
Lightning erupted.
Not the thin, crackling streamers of static discharge, but a column of raw electrical fury thick as a man's torso. It descended from Mjolnir with the inevitability of divine judgment, brilliant white-blue radiance so intense it burned afterimages into optical sensors. The light painted every surface, every shadow, transforming the dark battlefield into a snapshot of frozen clarity.
The bolt struck the Necron formation dead center.
Electricity, seeking the path of least resistance, found metal bodies to be perfect conductors. Current flowed through necrodermis like water through pipes, racing along neural pathways never designed to carry such voltage. Circuits overloaded in cascading failures. Power cores fluctuated wildly, attempting to compensate, then simply gave up. The lightning jumped from target to target, arcing between warriors in brilliant chains of destruction.
The Necrons' bodies, already weakened by rust and corrosion, couldn't withstand the assault. Metal heated beyond tolerance points, expanding rapidly. Joints seized. Limbs locked in mid-motion. The characteristic green glow of their power systems flickered, dimmed, and died.
Under the sustained barrage from the Intelligent Control Corps, already reeling from bolt rounds and melta beams, the addition of divine lightning proved terminal.
The remaining Necrons began to fail catastrophically. Their corroded metal bodies shook violently, internal systems cooking from electrical overload. Smoke, unnaturally green and acrid, poured from gaps in their armor plating. The smell was chemical and wrong, synthetic compounds burning in ways that nature never intended.
One by one, they collapsed, crashing to the deck in expanding clouds of that toxic smoke.
Nolan lowered his precision bolter slowly, the barrel still radiating heat that distorted the air around it. He didn't turn around, keeping his attention fixed on the fallen Necrons, but his voice carried clearly through the comm-link.
"Thor, your lightning is effective. Very effective, actually."
"Ha!" Thor's laugh boomed through the speakers, rich with satisfaction and vindication. "Asgardians never boast falsely, brother Nolan! When we claim power, we possess it!"
The massive Terminator armor shifted, Mjolnir tossing casually from one ceramite-encased hand to the other. The hammer spun end over end, trailing residual electrical discharge. "These Necrons are entirely metallic constructs. Simple physics applies! Electrical conductivity, thermal expansion, resistance heating." A pause, then with evident pride, "Jane taught me these principles!"
Nolan grunted acknowledgment, his attention already shifting to tactical concerns. His helmet's motion detector painted the battlefield in false colors, tracking even the smallest movements. Every fallen Necron registered, their positions marked, their status assessed.
Nothing moved.
He activated the comm, issuing crisp commands. "Machine guards, advance. Confirm kills on all targets. Decapitation protocols. I don't want any surprises from regeneration systems we might have missed."
The Scyllax-class Guardian-automata slithered forward with eager precision, their serpentine bodies flowing between corpses. Chainsaws roared to life, teeth spinning at maximum RPM. They went to work with mechanical thoroughness, severing heads from bodies, ensuring that even if some miracle of Necron technology tried to resurrect these warriors, they'd lack the neural architecture to function.
The sound was unpleasant. Metal grinding against metal, sparks flying in bright showers, the wet crunch of power systems being pulverized.
"Servo-robot teams two through five," Nolan continued, his voice remaining level and professional. "Collect the Necron remains and weapons. Transport them outside via our entry route. We'll catalog and study everything later."
The designated units moved to comply, their heavy manipulator arms gathering pieces of shattered warriors and damaged Gauss flayers with the same care they might use for delicate equipment.
Nolan finally allowed himself to relax slightly, though his grip on the C'tan Phase Sword remained firm. The weapon hummed softly in his grasp, satisfied by the destruction it had enabled.
Minutes passed as the cleanup continued. The immediate threat neutralized, both Nolan and Thor took the opportunity to catch their breath, checking ammunition levels, scanning for additional contacts, allowing their physiologies to flush combat stimulants and return to baseline.
Then they turned their attention to salvage.
The deck area and surrounding spaces held more than just Necron corpses. Vehicle wreckage littered the area, pieces of Imperial war machines that had fought their final battles here. Most were beyond hope, twisted into abstract sculptures of tortured metal. But some...
Thor's bulk moved through the debris field with surprising care for something so massive. His helmet swept left and right, sensors cataloging everything, until movement stopped abruptly.
"Brother Nolan." Thor's voice carried excitement. "Here. Look what I found, embedded in that bulkhead."
Nolan approached, picking his way over shattered deck plating. Three Sororitas Drop Pods. The drop pods were immediately recognizable despite the damage, their distinctive teardrop shapes partially buried in what had once been a cabin wall. The Adepta Sororitas' iconography was still visible in places, faith rendered in ceramite and gold leaf.
External inspection suggested moderate damage. Scorch marks from atmospheric entry. Impact deformations from the landing. But the hulls appeared intact, the critical structural members showing no signs of catastrophic failure.
"Internal systems are unknown," Nolan muttered, circling one of the pods, studying it from multiple angles. "But even worst case, three pods give us enough parts to assemble at least one functional unit. Maybe two if we're lucky."
He marked their locations in his helmet's mapping system, tagging them for recovery teams.
Movement drew his attention to Thor, who had wandered further into the debris field. The God of Thunder stood before the broken corpses of several Thunderhawk gunships, massive aircraft that had been reduced to scrap by forces that defied easy understanding.
"These are severely damaged," Nolan said as he joined Thor, though he marked their locations anyway. "Even someone who knows nothing about mechanical systems can see that."
Thor's helmet bobbed in agreement. "Repair seems... unlikely."
"Unlikely is generous." Nolan's tone was dry. "But they might serve as reference prototypes. Help our tech-priests understand Imperial design philosophy, materials science, construction techniques." He shrugged inside his armor. "Something's better than nothing."
After cataloging the major finds, Nolan stepped back and shook his head. "Alright, Thor. Let's not continue this discussion. Neither of us has the technical expertise to make informed judgments."
He gestured vaguely at the wreckage surrounding them. "We'll wait for my people to evaluate everything properly. And given what we've found so far..." A slight smile entered his voice. "I suspect Reditus will choose to take up permanent residence in this hulk. We'll never get him to leave."
Thor's laugh was genuine, the sound bouncing off twisted metal and creating odd echoes. "Your people does seem passionate about his work."
"That's one word for it." Nolan chambered a fresh magazine into his bolter, the action smooth and practiced. "Come on. We keep moving deeper."
They reformed the Intelligent Control Corps into marching order and pushed forward, leaving the secured area behind.
The internal geography of the space hulk continued its chaotic pattern, different vessels' structures mashed together by violence and the warp's reality-bending properties. Corridors led into chambers from entirely different ships. Deck levels intersected at wrong angles. The layout defied three-dimensional logic in places, suggesting four-dimensional folding that human minds weren't equipped to fully process.
Then the Imperial architecture stopped.
The transition was abrupt and jarring. One moment, they moved through recognizable human construction, all right angles and functional design. The next, the walls changed character entirely. The metal became different, smoother, with an almost organic quality despite being clearly artificial. Alien geometric patterns decorated surfaces, mathematical precision rendered in green-glowing lines.
World Engine construction. Necron technology on a massive scale, a fragment of something that had once been a mobile stellar fortress. Somehow, impossibly, this piece had been incorporated into the hulk's structure.
Nolan's skin prickled beneath his armor. His tactical instincts screamed warnings.
Their footsteps changed in quality, the sound different against Necron metal than Imperial deck plating. The Intelligent Control Corps' advance continued at measured pace, weapons ready, sensors at maximum gain.
Green beams lanced from hidden alcoves without warning.
Gauss energy, that distinctive sickly glow, carved through the air in precise geometric patterns. The shots came from concealed firing positions, carefully calculated angles designed to create intersecting fields of fire.
Necrons emerged from the darkness like metal ghosts materializing into reality.
But these were different from the corroded warriors they'd fought before. These moved smoothly, joints articulating with proper precision. Their necrodermis gleamed even in the low light, surfaces clean and well-maintained. The characteristic green glow of their optical sensors burned steady and bright.
They met the Intelligent Control Corps' vanguard with coordinated volleys, their tactics suggesting functioning command protocols and battlefield awareness.
"These ones are properly maintained!" Nolan's voice cracked sharp over the comm. "Scarabs must be active here, providing repair services." He holstered his bolter in one fluid motion and brought the C'tan Phase Sword to high guard. "Thor, suppress them with sustained fire! I'm going in close to draw out their heavy units!"
He didn't wait for acknowledgment, just drove his armor forward at maximum acceleration.
The Intelligent Control Corps parted before him, opening a corridor through their formation. Nolan burst through into the Necron line like a missile, the Phase Sword leading, its impossible edge singing through the air.
The first sweep took three Necrons, the blade passing through their bodies with almost no resistance. Necrodermis, that legendary living metal, proved no match for a weapon forged from the essence of star gods. The warriors separated cleanly, top halves sliding from bottom halves, both pieces collapsing in showers of sparks.
Nolan pivoted, servos screaming, and brought the sword back in a reverse cut. Two more Necrons fell, their torsos opening like flowers blooming, internal systems exposed and failing.
Every few meters, he struck. Each strike claimed multiple targets. The Phase Sword's reach and cutting power made him a whirlwind of destruction, an angel of death moving through the Necron formation.
But the Necrons, despite their better condition, showed strange behavioral patterns. They struggled to adapt, their responses sluggish and inappropriate. Warriors continued firing Gauss flayers at point-blank range when they should have switched to melee protocols. Others attempted to close for physical combat while their weapons were still configured for ranged fire.
The disconnect between their maintained bodies and degraded combat software was obvious and exploitable.
Nolan pressed his advantage mercilessly, carving through the formation, creating chaos and confusion.
Then the heavy footsteps announced something different approaching.
The sound was distinct from the lighter tread of warrior-class Necrons. Each impact rang like hammer blows against anvils, weight and power behind every step. The rhythm was uneven, stuttering, but implacable.
Two Skorpekh Destroyers emerged from the deeper darkness.
They stood three meters tall, their bodies mounted on three mechanical legs that terminated in blade-like points. Each one carried a C'tan Phase Sword, the weapons scaled to match their wielders' size. Rust covered their forms in patches, concentrated around joints and servo-mechanisms, but less extensive than the corrosion on the earlier Necrons.
Their optical sensors blazed bright green, focusing on Nolan with clear hostile intent.
Nolan's tactical assessment ran in microseconds. Two heavy units, partially degraded but still dangerous. Phase weapons that could cut through his armor like paper. Enhanced speed and strength typical of Destroyer variants.
He opened his mouth to order machine guard intervention.
Lightning descended first.
Thor, standing behind the Intelligent Control Corps line, had already identified the threat. All servo-arms on his Terminator armor extended fully, weapons traversing to optimal firing angles. But Mjolnir, held high in his primary grip, was the first to speak.
Electrical discharge erupted in branching patterns, multiple bolts rather than a single column. They fell on both Skorpekh Destroyers simultaneously, wrapping around their tall frames, crawling across rust-pitted surfaces, seeking vulnerabilities.
The Destroyers staggered, their advance disrupted. Limbs jerked spasmodically as electrical interference cascaded through their systems. They were tougher than the warriors, their power cores more robust, but the assault clearly affected them.
Nolan seized the opening. "Machine guards! Swarm formation! Bring them down!"
The Scyllax-class Guardian-automata responded with mechanical eagerness, their serpentine bodies flowing forward en masse. Dozens converged on each Destroyer, chainswords screaming, metal tentacles wrapping around legs and torso. They attacked like wolves bringing down elk, coordinated and relentless.
Behind them, Thor's servo-arms added their fire to the assault.
Multi-meltas painted the Destroyers in thermal death, armor plating running molten under sustained heating. The repurposed Gauss blaster added its own green fury, ironic justice as Necron technology killed Necrons. Storm bolters hammered away with explosive rounds, each detonation chipping away at structural integrity.
The combined firepower was overwhelming.
The first Destroyer went down under the weight of machine guards and sustained fire, its legs finally buckling, torso crashing to the deck. The guards swarmed over it, chainsaws finding joints and seams, tearing it apart with mechanical efficiency.
The second lasted longer, its Phase Sword carving through machine guards in wide arcs that scattered parts and lubricant. But weight of numbers and Thor's relentless bombardment proved decisive. It toppled backward, systems failing, and disappeared beneath a wave of metal serpents.
Silence fell gradually as the last weapon stopped firing. Smoke drifted through the space, mixing with the green vapor that leaked from destroyed Necron power cores.
Nolan's motion detector swept the area one final time. Nothing moved except his own forces.
He drew a deep breath, tasting recycled air that carried hints of ozone and burnt metal even through filtration, and turned toward Thor. The God of Thunder was cycling his servo-arms through reload procedures, spent ammunition canisters ejecting and fresh feeds locking into place.
"Fortunate that their bodies lacked proper maintenance," Nolan said through the comm, his voice level despite the adrenaline still singing through his system. "Otherwise, ending this battle would have required significantly more effort."
"Brother Nolan, I've made an observation." Thor's tone was serious, the earlier levity completely absent. "These skeleton warriors are essentially cannon fodder without ranged weapons. Those larger specialized units represent their true combat power."
The Terminator armor's bulk shifted, gesturing toward the destroyed Scorpions. "And they equip those units with Phase Swords as standard armament. Your Intelligent Control Corps doesn't concern itself with casualties, can overwhelm through pure numbers. But if this were an Asgardian force..." He paused, calculating. "We'd need to trade three warriors for every one of theirs. Maybe more."
The assessment was clinical and correct. The Skorpekh Destroyers' appearance, particularly their armament, had clearly revised Thor's evaluation of the Necron threat.
Nolan didn't respond immediately. He supervised the machine guards as they performed their grim work, decapitating every fallen Necron to prevent any possibility of resurrection. The servo-robots gathered remains and weapons methodically, creating organized piles for later transport.
Then he turned his attention to the Necron territory they'd captured, the fragment of World Engine that jutted into the hulk's structure.
"Machine guard teams alpha through delta," he commanded. "Sweep the World Engine section thoroughly. I want every chamber, every corridor, every maintenance shaft checked for remaining Necrons. Report all contacts immediately."
The designated teams split off, disappearing into the alien architecture with weapons ready.
Minutes passed. Status reports filtered back through the tactical net. Empty chambers. Abandoned positions. No contacts.
The World Engine fragment, whatever its original purpose, was now a tomb housing only the dead.
Satisfied, Nolan gestured for Thor to follow. "We keep moving. The ship machine spirit chamber is still out there somewhere. And the deeper we go, the more intact sections we're likely to find."
The Intelligent Control Corps reformed around them, and they pushed deeper into the space hulk's dark heart, leaving the battlefield behind.
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