Guided by an invisible force, the Thunderhawk began to move forward, pulled gently yet irresistibly toward the gargantuan vessel. The civilians clutched their seats, their initial hope mingling with a fresh wave of apprehension as the vast ship grew ever closer. Docking bay doors the size of a city block began to open, revealing an interior lit by cool, bright lights and fortified by an intricate lattice of steel and metal, shaped and designed in a way that spoke of an alien intellect.
Ambrosius, seeing the civilians’ mounting fear, placed a calming hand on one woman’s shoulder. “Stay calm. We are here to protect you. Remain steadfast, and do not let fear overtake you.”
The Thunderhawk drifted into the docking bay, guided with precision. As they passed the threshold, the scale of the bay became clearer: towering cranes, massive structures for servicing, and arrays of strange machinery lined the walls, all far more advanced than anything seen in the Forge Worlds of the Mechanicus. Each piece of technology seemed crafted with both efficiency and a touch of artistry, as though the designers viewed functionality and beauty as one and the same.
“By Guilliman… how is it possible that something like this could exist without the Imperium’s knowledge.” Callex murmured, his voice tinged with a mixture of fascination and wariness.
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The voice returned over the vox, smooth and unfazed by the intensity of the situation. “Docking procedure initiated. Docking Bay 3 is prepared to receive you.”
The Thunderhawk eased forward into the dock, coming to a stop within a vast chamber, large enough to accommodate even the largest of Imperial transports. It was starkly lit, every corner and surface gleaming, as if the space itself had been purified of any and all imperfections.
Ambrosius glanced over at Callex, his expression unreadable beneath his helm. “Brother, we know nothing of who or what controls this ship. If it is hostile…”
Callex nodded. “Then we fight, to our last breath, as is our duty. But something tells me they would have acted by now if they wished us harm.”
The civilians huddled in silence, taking in the strange new environment that stretched beyond the viewports, their voices hushed in awe and trepidation.
As the Thunderhawk settled into place, the mechanized voice spoke once more, its tone as composed as ever. “Docking procedure complete. Please wait for "Guide" to arrive.”
The Thunderhawk’s doors remained shut, yet the Space Marines could feel the anticipation hanging in the air, as though the entire vessel awaited this moment. With no answers yet, they only had each other—and their oaths to the Emperor and to those they had sworn to protect.