Chapter 118 Strange Gift
"Do you miss her?" Morse asked. The two of them stood at the front of the Iron Blood, looking out of the window at the small starship going away.
A few hours later, under the protection of Geller's position and the continuous gaze of Morse, the ship will dive into the vast ocean and return to Olympia, the planet where green mountains and silver steel are intertwined. .
Perturabo lowered his eyes after the starship was beyond the visual range, and his aura reached a surprisingly peaceful state. Looking from another perspective, his consciousness residing in this body is emitting a faint golden light of tranquility.
Different from the calmness gained by restraining emotions and running thoughts, this is a kind of tranquility from the inside out, just like the water of a mountain lake after the ice surface melts. It is not frozen due to low temperature, but just exists quietly. It reflects the cloud shadows of the blue and sunny sky.
"I thought I didn't miss her so much," said Perturabo, moving away from the window, Morse walking with him.
Only the front half of the Iron Blood, named the Dodekatheon, has enough portholes. This contains the activity room that Perturabo prepared for his Masons' Club. Future tactics discussion and simulation center, and Iron Warriors living quarters.
The Iron Lord believes that this is enough to take care of the mental health of his children. Of course, he himself will come here from time to time to gaze at the stars and discuss with his warriors everything from daily life to daily battles. question.
"Where are we going now?" Morse said, and Perturabo thought he was asking knowingly.
He was finally convinced that the possibility of hiding something completely from Mors's eyes was no less than letting the aliens shout long live the Emperor - perhaps the latter was simpler, Horus seemed to There have been successful cases.
"Go back to my office." Perturabo replied, "I have a gift for you."
"You can choose to believe it or not, I did not find out what it was." Morse To lengthen the vowels in a language. In these little things, he would keep some freshness for himself as a seasoning.
Perturabo nodded. After going back and forth several times, he gradually lost confidence in his gift.
This is actually not what Morse really needs. He doesn't understand how he came up with such a weird gift. Perhaps this was the drawback of having been in the war for a long time. Even as a primarch, his brain was soaked with war-related entries.
It didn't take long for them to return to the office. Perturabo walked towards his cabinet, took a deep breath behind Morse's back, resisted the gaze from behind, raised his broad palms, Stand near the palm lock.
"I need to tell you beforehand," said Perturabo, "your preferences have always been a mystery to me. You have paid little attention to the basic needs of humans, clothing, food, shelter, these have never been There is only one thing that has never left you since I met you."
"Well..." Morse thought for a moment, "You want to send me unfriendly words? Am I a dictionary?"
"No." The lines on Perturabo's face tightened. He was now like a carved stone statue, and it became a little difficult for him to move. "It's your chair."
Cane chairs, cane chairs, and more cane chairs. Perturabo often wondered how many chairs Morse could pull out of the void. This man in black robes wished he could spend half of the day sitting in the wicker chair, and the remaining quarter of the time lying in the wicker chair. The last quarter lay in bed sleeping.
Peturabo pressed his palm and the cabinet door slid open to both sides. The speed at which his feet moved away from the cabinet door was slower than the reaction time of a Primarch or even a Space Marine. To be more precise, the movement speed of a mortal under the age of five or over eighty might be as fast as his. Equivalent.
"Wow," Morse said, walking quickly forward.
The items in the cabinet slid to the center of the room along the trajectory laid out by the golden spell, and the top fell into Morse's palm wrapped with a black cloth strip. Perturabo held his breath.
What appeared in front of Morse was a unique chair - a magical object that was difficult to summarize in simple words, so it could only be temporarily described as a chair.
The chair is made of black leather as the backrest and seat cushion. In order to move, the chair legs are modified into two huge wheels, and a foot pedal is added.
A hidden operating lever is installed at the front of the armrest, which relies on the user's fingers to activate the hidden energy system in the chair and control the direction and speed of movement.
"What's the top speed?"
"About two hundred miles an hour," Perturabo whispered. "It uses the plasma reactor function. If the booster is activated, the short-term instantaneous speed can exceed the speed of sound."
Morse wiped his face and tried to calm down the smile on his face. He found the hidden button on the back of the chair, and after pressing it, two gun barrels immediately stretched out from above the chair. If the user is sitting in it, the two barrels will be supported just above the user's left and right shoulders.
“This is a laser weapon,” Perturabo introduced his creation. “It is not the kind of mortal auxiliary army of the Empire. It is the ancient technology left on the Judgment Rock of the Olympia satellite. It can accurately break through thick armor. It has strong armor-piercing capabilities and can be switched between modes via the bypass switch. It is also equipped with a smoke grenade launcher and a searchlight."
Morse stroked the smooth iron-gray barrel, enjoying the coldness of the steel in his palms. of docility. If he wasn't in the Iron-Blooded, which Perturabo had just built, he would have already sat on it and started to experience it. Perturabo bent down and flipped the control switch hidden in the wheel axle, and a new barrel protruded from under the right armrest. At the same time, the seat cushion popped open, exposing the metal box hidden under the thick black leather cushion to the air.
"This cannon can fire projectiles with subatomic cores." Perturabo introduced as calmly as possible, "It is used to destroy bunkers and enemies behind bunkers. It is suitable for supporting street fighting."
Morse opened the metal box and took out a shining silver power dagger and a brand new yellow and black striped bolter that was modified to a size that a mortal could use. The remaining space was filled with several boxes of ammunition.
“Cool.” he said.
A small joy was born in Perturabo's heart.
Morse's fingers slid across the armrest and activated the mechanism hidden under the leather on the left side. Another gun barrel—actually six gun barrels that came together separated from the leather of the armrest, were supported by the outstretched mechanical arm, and stood in the air.
"Gatling?"
"Gatling, the fastest firing weapon on this chair." Perturabo said. "Also, the thrusters are under the foot pedals."
"Any other surprises?" Morse asked.
"Of course, it's just the last one." The corners of Perturabo's mouth began to rise. He patted the wheel of the chair, and a holographic projection immediately covered the chair, hiding all the guns and cannons in the light and shadow.
At the same time, a gradually solidifying human figure constructed from projection appeared on the chair. It looked like a particularly weak version of Morse. He was slumped feebly in the ordinary leather chair, his thin arms resting on the armrests. On the chair, the back of the chair barely supported the weak figure of the projection. He took a breath with difficulty from time to time, and the holographic image played in a loop.
Morse laughed so much that he started to cough into his mouth. "Your father is here," he patted his chest and gasped, "You are a genius, Perturabo, seriously. You really are."
"So you... like it? ?"
"The only reason I didn't start trying it out right away was because I didn't want to blow up your new ship." Morse laughed. "Don't worry, I will shoot every bullet. The curse is engraved on it to increase its power."
"Wow." Perturabo pressed his smile on the corner of his mouth with his thumb and index finger. "As long as you like it."
Morse shook his head regretfully: "I lost to you this time. The gift I gave you was too ordinary. I will give you a new one next time, and reach out to take it."
The next moment, a handful The huge warhammer suddenly fell from the air and was caught by Perturabo who was in a hurry.
The warhammer has a simple design and a smooth structure. The flowing runes are looming under the light, and it is unknown what function it has. A miniature hammer-shaped icon that looks the same as this hammer is engraved on the front end of the hammer handle. It is embossed in white on the black chassis, and a short yellow strip on the edge draws a circle of black and yellow standard features of the Iron Warriors.
“I designed a Legion icon for you,” Morse said, “You can also design another one yourself. By the way, I have added some functions to this hammer, you can try it slowly—— But there is no background music playing automatically, if you want me to add it now."
"I'm missing a weapon," Perturabo said. Since both hands were used to hold the handle of the hammer, there was nothing to cover it. He gave a rare smile. "I can let the Iron Blood take it to the other side of me. Thank you, Morse. But you have to follow the Iron Blood..."
Before he finished speaking, another Perturabo's voice came to Perturabo's mind here, causing his movements to temporarily stop, and the joy on his face added surprise.
“The auspicious observatory shows,” his voice came together with the shared memory, “that there is a huge starship staying in the orbit of the planet ahead. Its size is almost the same as a small satellite. It is covered with ancient weapons that are different from the existing technology of the empire, and contains a huge monastery and other buildings that are still being repaired and rebuilt."
"Yes, its size is far larger than the Iron Blood. And yes, the white-haired giant walking on the deck should be a Primarch.”
I really want to write the official history of the Talking Emperor...
Lao He: Bastard. Street liar dad forced me to 996 for thirty years
Wolf King: Lost to the Emperor for dinner, sad
Post-Primarch Ullanor: Dad really ran away and went back to Terra to fish, eh
Warmaster Davin: The Emperor became a success god? If you let it go, can he still become a god like that?
Happy birthday: refers to forcibly taking the father out to work
(End of this chapter)