Had Nolan arrived at any Astartes Chapter, the reception would have been predictable regardless of allegiance. A Chaos warband would have counted him a worthy enemy. A loyalist Chapter would have received him as the most honored of guests. The gene-bond, the recognition of what a Primarch was and what it meant, would have cut through everything else.
The Mechanicus operated on different principles.
The Tech-Priests of Gryphonne IV had no blood connection to him, no instinct that responded to his presence the way Astartes instincts did. What they had was a rational assessment of an unusual situation: three individuals of uncertain identity, carrying weapons and wearing armor that raised more questions than it answered, who had arrived through an unauthorized warp transition and claimed something that could not be quickly verified. The Mechanicus mind, when presented with an unverified claim attached to a significant potential cost, did not lean toward acceptance.
What the Tech-Priest had done instead was economical. A fine suit of armor from his personal collection, a brief exchange of words, and three problematic unknowns would have departed the installation without incident. The alternative, expending Skitarii units and armored assets to destroy three Astartes-grade combatants of unknown capability, was a worse use of resources by any calculation.
Nolan had recognized the logic. Cypher had shaken his head and accepted it. Neither of them had argued.
They were already moving toward the temple's exit when Cypher stopped.
He turned and walked back toward the group of sanctioned psykers, his pace deliberate, and the Skitarii flanking the group shifted their posture immediately. He ignored them and stopped in front of one of the younger psykers.
"When you exercise your abilities," Cypher said, "does it feel more difficult than it should? Obscured, like trying to see through dirty glass?" He paused. "Or something more physical. Headaches. A sensation of pressure."
The young psyker looked at him, then at the Tech-Priest.
The Tech-Priest inclined his head fractionally. Permission granted.
The psyker exhaled slowly. "All of those, my lord Astartes. They began last night. Many of us experienced a feeling of suffocation without any physical cause, as though drowning without water." He paused. "By morning it had eased, mostly. It has not returned to the same intensity. But the headaches persist, and the use of our gifts feels like pushing against something that was not there before. We have continued functioning. The faith of the Machine God and the Emperor sustains us."
Cypher turned his head.
The look he directed at Nolan carried the specific quality of someone who had hoped to be wrong and was not.
"Brothers," he said quietly. "This is going to be difficult."
Nolan was already moving forward, and the social calculation that had governed the last ten minutes was gone from his face entirely.
"Activate every long-range auspex array on this forge world," he said to the Tech-Priest, his voice dropping into the register that made orders feel like statements of fact. "Have your Astropathic Choir conduct a full-scale psychic survey of the surrounding system. Do it now."
"One moment."
The Tech-Priest raised a mechadendrite in a gesture that was not quite a hand but served the same function.
"Before I direct any resources on that scale, I would like to understand what threat you believe warrants it. Gryphonne IV maintains a full Astra Militarum garrison, Skitarii forces in considerable number, armored assets, a Titan Legion, and two Knight Houses. Whatever we face, these forces represent a significant response capability. What is it that concerns you sufficiently to override your previous discretion?"
Nolan looked down at him. Something in his expression was close to a grimace.
"If our assessment is correct," he said, each word precise, "then what your psykers experienced last night was the leading edge of a shadow in the warp. That shadow has only one cause."
He held the Tech-Priest's optical array.
"A Tyranid hive fleet is inbound. Not a splinter tendril. The primary mass. And the notion of defending against that with a single forge world's garrison, however well-equipped, is either very brave or very uninformed."
The auspex arrays came online within the hour.
The Astropathic Choir attempted a system-wide survey. Three of them did not come back from it intact. The data that the surviving astropaths and the auspex stations returned was unambiguous: psychic communication across the entire star zone was severely degraded, long-range transmission across system boundaries was completely dead, and the gravimetric sensors at Gryphonne IV's outer detection range were recording mass-shadows of a scale that the instruments' designers had included as a theoretical upper limit rather than an expected measurement.
The Mechanicus command structure processed the information. Then it processed it again.
The hive fleet was real. It was large. It was coming.
Nolan put forward the strategic recommendation immediately: execute a priority evacuation of the forge world's most critical STC materials and irreplaceable technical knowledge. Move the mortal population where evacuation was possible. Leave combat forces behind to contest the landing and buy time. Preserving the knowledge was worth more to the Imperium in the long term than holding a single forge world.
The senior Magi rejected it.
Gryphonne IV did not concede. Gryphonne IV had not conceded in its recorded history. The Titan Legion was present. The Knight Houses were present. The Skitarii were present. The suggestion that these forces were insufficient was not accepted as a basis for abandoning the installation.
What the Magi offered instead: command authority over the Astra Militarum garrison, in recognition of the Astartes' contribution in identifying the threat. The Guard's performance under Astartes leadership was historically superior. The arrangement was logical.
The wolf had acquired his new suit of armor by then, a dark red Lucius-forged suit that fit his frame with the quality difference immediately apparent in the way he moved. He heard the offer and responded in Fenrisian, loudly and at length, in terms that required no translation.
Cypher was already reaching for the webway beacon at his belt, running the calculation on whether an immediate departure made more sense than anything else.
Nolan was the one who said yes.
He said it without much hesitation, and then added his own condition: full discretionary access to every resource on the forge world, including the automated servitor forces and the Mechanicus' manufacturing infrastructure, to be directed as he judged necessary.
The senior Magi weighed it against the alternative of facing the hive fleet without any additional command capability and accepted.
The wolf rounded on him the moment the Tech-Priests had moved away to begin their preparations.
"Tell me you understand what you just agreed to." He was not shouting, but the volume was in the direction of it. "There are three of us. Three. Even if you summon the Carcharodons and every other Chapter with a reason to answer your call, you are looking at a few thousand Astartes against a primary hive fleet. The bugs will eat all of them and still have appetite."
He spread his hands.
"I understand that this is what a Primarch does. I know what the duty looks like. But these Magi don't trust us. They handed us the Guard to command because they want warm bodies between themselves and the wave. They are not going to listen when it matters. You agreed to lead mortals into a hive fleet's path and you did it in about ten seconds."
"Are you scared, wolf cub?"
Nolan had not looked up from the forge world's tactical map spread across the display surface in front of him.
"You have your armor now. I'm not asking you to stay. If you want to leave with Cypher, that option is open to you."