“Ship identified: Resurgam. Request for communication unsuccessful,” drawled the mechanical voice of a mostly mutated member of the Dark Mechanicus. Their name, he did not learn nor remember. Their body was rapidly succumbing to the Flesh Change. They would be dead within a couple hours, if that. The being standing next to the hunched, multi-limbed monstrosity let out a small grunt.
“What is she doing so close to home?” he muttered. He was standing on the observation deck of his own flagship. He was alone before the adept came to inform him of a foreign ship in their midst. They were on their way back to Sortiarius after a small raid on a recently abandoned Imperial Forge World. Most of its knowledge had, unfortunately, been lost, but enough remained where Magnus did not count it as a complete loss.
They had what they needed for now. It would suffice until more gears were set in motion.
“Unknown intentions. Designation identified. World Eaters,” the mutated adept went on. A small data slate was in one of its many limbs, information scrolling past.
“I do not think that is a World Eaters vessel anymore.” Magnus frowned a little. “Go make another transmission. Make sure they know it is I who wish to establish contact.”
“Acknowledged, Lord Magnus, Daemon Primarch of the Thousand Sons.” The adept turned and began hobbling away. Magnus was alone once more upon his observation deck. His gaze was locked upon the new vessel, studying it carefully.
+I have a feeling you would all rather speak to me in the flesh than to withstand aetheric communication,+ he sent to the ship. His aetheric voice was able to echo in the minds of whomever was piloting it, but it was only a voice. He did not probe any minds, he merely sent a message. +When next I hail you, I would prefer you answer, if you could be so kind. You are quite close to my own home, after all.+