Chapter 81 The Unfamiliar Ceiling
The faint mist covering the dim firelight reflected in the warp by Prospero's beings temporarily dimmed, and the evil god was forced to loosen his claws after the struggle and trauma. , unwilling to relax their control over this place.
However, considering the characteristics of the Lord of Change, Morse still seems to be able to smell a conspiracy and planning from the seemingly calm waves of the vast ocean.
He no longer thought about it and directly let his composite spirit body respond to the echo of the other body.
In an instant, before any waves of changing colors and twisted dimensions could capture him through his senses, he woke up under an unfamiliar ceiling.
He looked at the ceiling formed by bright silver steel splicing, and allocated the sensing units to the parts of the body that should be skin as he thought, and a chill of cold iron immediately came from beneath his body.
Morse rolled over and jumped down from the waking plane, and found that it was an anvil of a size suitable for the original body, whose display significance was far greater than its practical value. It was placed in Perturabo's office.
Perturabo himself was wearing a serious expression that was more unchanging than steel. He folded his hands on the table and waited for him to come over with a calm expression.
"Good morning." Morse took out a wicker chair out of thin air. After sitting down, he levitated the chair to a suitable height for the meeting with the original body and said, "Is this your temporary flagship?"
Perturabo immediately and accurately pulled out the document he wanted from the pile of paper bricks in his hand, flattened the triangular creases in the corners of the paper, and handed it to To Morse.
At the same time, he spoke firmly and forcefully: "Yes, I will temporarily use a combat barge as a command ship. This is my future flagship drawing and current progress report in the early stages of construction. You can take a look."
"Don't be so gnashing your teeth when there's no final battle going on, Perturabo." Morse flipped over the drawings, "I know you're nervous to see me. It's okay, I won't stuff you with a spoon. "Into the soup pot."
Perturabo's brow trembled. The original body maintained his seriousness meticulously. Except for a few muscles used to say "I already know", there was no trace of his body. Tension becomes relaxation.
This surprised Morse: Perturabo did not sit so upright and solemnly in front of him.
Perturabo pulled out a black pen suitable for mortals from the pen holder on the desktop. After Morse took it, he skillfully made annotations on the side of the drawing marked with the name of the ship "Iron Blood". .
"As your first design, this ship is obviously a bit over the top. Who collaborated with you?"
"The Adeptus Mechanicus." Perturabo said, flashing through his mind the things that made him almost launch his hand. "They believe in the God of All Machines."
"It's understandable. In the strife and darkness, God can be in any form that can satisfy people's psychological needs. The design is good, but Where are the windows on your ship?”
“The eyes can deceive us, and there are so many ways in which our sensory experience can seriously deviate from reality, both in war and non-war.”
Pe. Turabo received another shared sense of him and found Magnus lying in the yellow sand again, holding his throat and retching. As a child, he was helplessly patting the red giant's arm.
When he receives information from another place, there will be a brief pause to process another set of senses that violates the common sense of the brain.
This sometimes causes him to mistakenly think that his own body is his extra body for two or three seconds, so that he almost says two wrong words or does something strange.
So Perturabo will not do this at a critical moment.
"In comparison, I still believe that data and logic will be more reliable." He said, thinking about Magnus' disaster.
"Relatively speaking, yes," Morse said. "Although any further discussion of the senses and things in themselves would lead our conversation to another fruitless argument."
He returned the annotated drawings to Perturabo: "Is there anything else you want to show me? I think under normal circumstances, it is impossible for a general's desk to be filled with all the summaries of several days in chronological order. Summarize the document."
Perturabo did not ask Morse how he could read the contents of the stack of papers on his desk.
The original body was silent for an insignificant period of time, stood up from the seat, and placed one hand on the back of the chair.
“You can sit here and read any of these documents.” Perturabo placed his broad palm lightly on the top of the pile of documents and said, “I will answer anything I can. Question."
"You have nothing else to do, less busy Lord of the Legion?" Morse asked inquiringly.
"I have enough free time today." Perturabo remained motionless, bound to accompany Morse in the office for a harmonious day trip to the battleship.
"Well..." Morse decisively swept the entire battle barge with his consciousness silently. His support for privacy protection has never been positive.
In one second, countless conversations and real-time thoughts between Astartes and mortals poured into his mind, and were quickly classified and analyzed.
Morse raised his eyebrows, understanding what was the first thing Perturabo's Iron Warriors learned from Olympia. He stood up from the wicker chair and floated in the air, the hem of his black robe floating in the air.
"I came to see you here because I have something serious to do," Morse said. "I wish to contact the Lord of Mankind through normal communication in a clean place far away from Prospero. Whether it is about the situation of Magnus or the current status of the Fifteenth Legion of Terra, I have many questions to ask Communicate with him directly."
"I'll go find the Astropath." Perturabo immediately picked up the ship's communicator, and Morse shook his finger at him.
"No need to worry." The man in black robe pointed at the locked door of the office, and the door lock was silently unlocked amidst the flowing shadow of runes. "There is no emergency crisis with Magnus. I decided to visit your territory first without accompanying me, you can do your work."
Perturabo looked serious, if there are other commanding Asta Especially here, you can immediately find that their genetic father has already adopted the attitude of thinking about tactical strategies when dealing with battles.
"Today is a rest day." Perturabo said, "There are no collective training and group activities to visit. But if you want, I can take you to the Masons' Club that is being formed in the legion."< br>
"Except for the actual exchange of sculpting techniques, talented and interested Iron Warriors will gather there to test the latest offensive and defensive theories and conduct sand table battlefield simulations."
"My heirs organized this gathering on their own, although The original intention seems to be to avoid being known as a bad craftsman in my memorial hall."
At this point, a smile flashed across Perturabo's face, "But the current development trend of the gathering is good, maybe I will. Select the first batch of war blacksmiths at the assembly."
"I can accompany you to find them," he added the emphasis quietly.
“Do you think your most trustworthy heirs are all there?”
"Not really, but many have joined. Like the first officers to meet with me."
"Well..." Morse said, "It sounds like you really believe them. We'd better listen. Listen to what your heirs are talking about in private."
He pulled out a projection screen-like phantom in the air, which was a spacious room in the ship filled with many sculpture practice supplies and war sand tables.
At this time, there were three Iron Warriors standing there who were whispering to each other. One of them was holding his helmet tightly, and the other was wearing an obviously older shoulder armor on his left shoulder.
"Father said he has a day off today, so we shouldn't disturb him." Nador said. "We will test this tactic ourselves."
"Does my father really have a mentor who has been...?" Defes said in a low voice, "I originally thought it was a rumor caused by the limited vision of Olympians."
"But our Petula Master Bo really seemed to want to talk to the air more than once," Nador said worriedly. "It's like he is in another world far away."
"And that craftsman only showed up at our legion's first meeting."
"You shut up Say it," Haco said impatiently. "Don't be disrespectful to the Primarch."
"Do you believe that is a rumor?"
"Even if not, we can't discuss it in private." Haco said, "Does this affect him as the father of our genes?"
"It shouldn't have much impact." Morse said.
The three of them turned their heads in horror and saw a man in black robes appearing behind them at some point. The shadow cast by the hood covered his face and floated silently behind them.
"Hello everyone." Morse greeted.
Thirty seconds later, Perturabo hurried into the room and glared at the nonsense steel bastard, "Where are the others!"
Nardole pointed to the door.
"Go find the Astropath for me," Perturabo said quickly, "Send it to my office."
As soon as he finished speaking, Perturabo left quickly again.
(End of this chapter)