Chapter 66 Harvest Time
Compared to the long and narrow corridor, this laboratory-like space is more spacious, but also darker.
The fluorescent tape is embedded in the wall about ten inches from the floor of the room, illuminating the smooth obsidian floor and the wall with almost invisible gaps.
There are several scattered glass jars in the room that are urgently stored here. There are twitching young human body parts floating in the jars. A large number of cables start from the neck and pass through the spine to extract the stem cells needed by the Black Judge. and other human body components.
The next moment Perturabo saw the situation inside the room clearly, artillery fire came from a remote angle. In order to avoid the ubiquitous glass tubes in the room, the new round of attacks hardly poses an effective threat to them.
This made Perturabo feel particularly ridiculous. Could the madness of heretics still make them stupid?
Without any communication, he and Horus rushed forward separately.
The Wolf God's huge claws easily smashed the glass jar, pulled out the half-dead people inside and gave them an end. The thick life-sustaining liquid and broken glass shards were scattered all over the ground, and the blood was Not very fluid.
When some sticky liquid splashed onto the wolf skin worn by Horus, the expression of the Wolf God remained unchanged, but the swings of his claws and hammer were obviously more powerful. The sharp points on the hammer The nails repeatedly cut deep cracks in the obsidian ground, almost wanting to make the inanimate house tremble and tremble together.
“You don’t want to recycle this biotechnology, do you, my brother?”
"No, they are too stupid!" replied Perturabo.
Horus' hammer swings even more refreshingly.
Perturabo gave way to the side, and more soldiers of the Fourth Legion poured into the room. A group of iron-gray power armored Astartes about the height of the original body's chest signaled at Perturabo Like a torrent, it efficiently destroyed all the furnishings in the room. Cables were pulled out, walls were cracked, and all hidden energy pipes and machine gun ports were removed.
After the cleaning work was completed, the soldiers stood still and stood still, approaching their original bodies in an orderly manner, holding their weapons in hand, waiting for the next instructions from the young original bodies.
Horus broke the last glass jar in his half of the house and nodded to Perturabo. The Legion moved on.
They have penetrated into key areas of the ship, increased the number of static defense systems, and reduced the number of biochemical slaves that can cause damage to experiments and life support facilities.
If other primarchs were replaced, such as Horus alone, they would probably only rely on the Astartes' own reflexes and armor protection to break through these advanced technologies from ancient times. defense.
But Perturabo found that calculating all the doubts here was almost a matter of course and easy for him, without thinking.
His superhuman wisdom accurately identifies the layout patterns and vulnerabilities of the Black Judge among infinite complex situations, and every attack accurately achieves the best effect that ammunition and blades can achieve.
In the first moment of seeing the image, Perturabo can construct a complete and detailed corresponding model, and in the second moment calculate the energy core hubs hidden everywhere, and in the third moment The moment is the time to command the legion to attack.
Unlike the mortals of Lokos before, these steel-covered warriors were like extensions of his arms and mind, strictly executing his every command. In the process of commanding this gear-like and efficient army, Perturabo discovered an exciting experience that he had never experienced before.
"Like my hammer," Perturabo murmured, his words hidden within his helmet, "war is also a forging."
The Warsmith. Such a word popped up in the busy corner of his brain.
After entering the ship, the hum of the machinery became louder. In the last dark room, Horus stepped on the ground suddenly, like a strong wind, and in an instant he caught a cyborg creature that was about to escape - Perturabo would never call them human.
The speed at which the Shepherd God smashed the mechanical shell and pulled out these twisted creatures from the ancient era from the life-sustaining liquid was almost synchronized with the speed at which the Fourth Legion swept the battlefield with firepower and sharp blades. A large number of them were almost integrated with flesh and blood. The whole mechanical body was smashed to the ground.
Compared with the mechanical defenses and biochemical slaves outside, the bodies of these creatures are fragile to the point of being vulnerable. They live in a dim environment and rot in rusty shells.
Perturabo pulled out a slippery creature that was twisted to the point of being irresistibly twisted from a mechanical body with severed appendages brought to him by the Astartes, and held it in his gauntlets. Get up and observe indifferently its painful twitching after being separated from the vitamin. "Can you speak?" he asked.
The creature whimpered in disappointment. Perturabo threw it, and it was torn apart by countless bolts in the air. Every warrior of the Fourth Legion was eager to place a shot on the target sent by the Primarch.
Horus stepped on the debris on the ground and walked to Perturabo, and the Astartes around him made room for the tall primarch. Perturabo asked them to collect data, clean the battlefield, and count the hidden supplies by themselves, waiting for him to review and sort them out later.
"It smells bad here," Horus said, the remnants of the battle still lingering on him. He propped the hammer on the ground.
"I'm wearing a helmet." Perturabo replied. The air filtration system of this huge armor of unknown origin was very good, and he decided to take the armor away for study.
Horus smiled, and his gaze proudly swept across the broken cables and damaged energy weapons that were waiting to be analyzed. "I'm impressed with your commanding style, brother."
"How did you lead your legions?"
"Oh, you're half a king and an entire army lord , but I used to be a gang leader. Thanks to my father, he was willing to hand over an entire army to a gangster picked up from a small planet."
The Shepherd God paused: "But I still had hair at that time."
Perturabo was kicked out of his serious thinking state by Horus's last words.
"Horus, are your legions also this iron-gray color?" he asked.
"Well, they look whiter." Horus swallowed the adjective "pearl white", and he could not forget the mysterious hint that Morse mentioned before. Maybe when he was truly mentally prepared, he would ask the Emperor.
“You should also be able to paint them any color you like.”
"Uniform color matching style?" Perturabo fell into thinking and began to formulate plans, imagining which color would be better for his iron shells.
At the same time, he could not help but imagine how to match the available weapons he saw along the way into the hands of the Astartes.
Alien weapons? No, that's called orthodox human technology from the dark ages.
"I will draw the concept drawing."
After Perturabo decided to draw the picture with lust, he asked Morse to accompany him to choose. After all, the artistic level of the craftsman cannot be denied. Just think about the level of the last sculpture he decided to give to him...
Wait a moment, that carved statue——
Perturabo opened his eyes wide, and the divine temperament of the faceless carved statue immediately overlapped with a certain golden figure he had seen recently.
He took a breath, shocked by a deep and indelible curiosity about who Morse was.
Perturabo shook his head and decided to ask Morse about the statue when he went back.
Morse's recent abnormal emotional state seems to hint at many secrets, and he may be able to dig out a little bit of Morse's eternally intact emotional shell, just like breaking through the ship's defense line. loopholes.
(End of this chapter)