Chapter 136: Great Lack of Great Virtue
“All residents have been evacuated.” Roger Dorn said.
Overlooking the icy planet from the Phalanx, some tiny black dots are scattered like scattered black pearls, symbolizing the laying of construction bases and temporary settlements. With the last team of transport trucks parked at the resettlement site, all obstacles to construction except natural conditions have been eliminated.
Construction equipment from the Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors are ready in the pits, and some of them are progressing quickly enough and have already begun work. The second step they will take is to demolish some of the old buildings that are no longer suitable for this era.
As for the first step that has been completed, it is to relocate residents from their residences to temporary residences on the ground using various methods ranging from comfort and adequate compensation to the bottom line of discretion.
"The habit of building settlements around energy towers does not need to change," Perturabo said, placing a general concept diagram in one of the Phalanx's urgently repaired rooms. "This feature will be retained."
The Iron Warriors were unwilling to let the Primarch sit in a shabby room without even a chandelier, so a whole ring of fluorescent lights was set along the edge of the ceiling of this circular room. , the huge dome is covered with gold-rimmed square pieces, and a constantly bright screen is used in the middle to simulate the blue sky, like a palace where all gods live.
The newly made tabletop is covered with a transparent plate on the relief. The relief content is a top-down top-down view of a gorgeous circular palace supported by twenty Corinthian columns, creating an atmosphere that is inferior to that of a mortal palace. Half the height of the Primarch, the visual effect and grand significance of being observed and controlled by the Primarchs.
"Is it true that no one is willing to listen to my suggestion of building a maze of concentric circles?" Morse shook his head and leaned on the armrest of his floating seat. "It's a pity."
"We can consider it when Inwit has the resources to build an ice and snow park." Roger Dorn looked at Morse seriously and said, inadvertently cutting off Petula who was about to refuse. Bo.
The latter glared at Dorn unhappily, and Dorn successfully noticed his look this time: "Is there a problem, my brother?"
"No." Perturabo said, "But Steel The Warrior will not participate in the maze construction."
"I will note this," said Dorn. "Perturabo, do you think the construction progress of the Imperial Fists satisfies you? I still cannot estimate from limited experience the reasonable working speed of the Astartes warriors."
"Satisfied?" "Perturabo snorted, "It's simply fanatical. You'd better ask them to slow down."
"Using my personal work rules as a reference," Dorn said, "It is stipulated that every twenty. Four hours of rest can satisfy their physiological needs cycle.”
"Why do my warriors report to me that they only rest every forty-two hours?" Perturabo asked. "In order to match or even reserve work progress, my heirs now work continuously for nearly forty-five hours."
"Only a few bases reported to me that their continuous working hours exceeded thirty hours, and in the reports, my soldiers said that they needed to work harder to catch up with their cousin's advanced progress." Dorn replied. "I will not prevent my team from taking the initiative to increase work intensity within the physiological allowable range. This is a reflection of a good mental state."
"I hope you are not implying that my heirs are lying to me."< br>
"That's not what I meant. I think there was a calculation error. Are the hours in Invite the same as your usual timing?"
"Same, no doubt about it." Pettu There was no expression on Rabo's face. "When we first discovered that a large amount of data was scrapped due to small deviations in the measurement units, I confirmed the uniformity of the remaining measurement units."
I don’t know whether it was the loss of data caused by spending the old night, or the deformation of materials caused by the extremely cold temperature, because some of Witte’s unit scales have a thousandth of a percent error compared to Terra’s standard unit scales, so the two almost quarreled again. got up.
At that time, Dorn decisively chose to shut up, and then the two of them turned their backs and took out the data stick and shoved it into the data board. They described the situation in purely logical terms and transmitted it to each other. They successfully managed before any unnecessary quarrel broke out. Efficiently resolving the misunderstanding, and taking the opportunity to rework all the large amounts of data, we tested the computing power of the newly repaired large cogitator on the mountain formation and the two primarchs.
Morse relies on the micro-runes on his fingertips to vibrate the air. In a sense, the snapping sound he makes is indeed made by his two fingers wrapped in black cloth.
"How often do you two receive reports?" Morse asked. "Every four days," said Perturabo.
"Every seven days." Dorn replied, "Did you choose four days because your legion number is four, my brother?"
"No, because I heard that Gutera weekly "Four days of work." Perturabo said, "It seems that the continuous working hours of our respective descendants are increasing every day."
"Exactly, Primarchs," Morse shrugged. "I doubt they report." The continuous working hours are calculated from the last break to the time of reporting to you. At least I can confirm that the tower crane on the construction site has not stopped for more than eighty hours."
Roger Dorn's light-colored one. Thoughts appeared in his eyes: "So this is the working attitude of the imperial army? I understand, Invite will move closer to the empire."
"No, it is definitely Invite who has influenced them," Perturabo called his war blacksmith with a gesture, "Let each team leader immediately report the work status, including progress, difficulties, internal team atmosphere and average daily working hours."
Dorn's bodyguards are still currently served by local mortals from Inwit. Considering the combat effectiveness gap between the original body and mortals, his mortal bodyguards are more like a group of busy clerks.
"Wright," he called a young lady, "ask the person in charge of each base to report on the situation, including progress, difficulties, legion atmosphere, working hours, and adjust the reporting cycle to four Once a day."
Then Donne added to Perturabo: "I like your choice of words, which reflects your serious and accurate character."
Perturabo. His tongue touched his teeth, and he ignored Donne's additional explanation without changing his expression.
"They are competing with each other," said the Iron Lord. "My heirs, and your heirs."
"Competition is the stone of survival." The giant who grew up in the ice and snow replied.
"This is an unnecessary contest," Perturabo said as calmly as possible. "Will it lead to conflict?"
"No," Dorn's concentration remained as solid as stone, "This is the Imperial Fists' way of repaying the Iron Warriors. We cannot keep you in Inwe for a long time. Special consumption of strength, I support them to catch up with the progress within their capabilities."
"Reward? What we do is just what is required for duty under the Emperor's banner," Perturabo shook his head, pruning recently for convenience. The short black hair no longer swayed with his movements, "Don't measure our will by rewards."
"I don't think milkshakes, cookies, and nuts are required by duty." Dorn remained unchanged. His tone will show different effects in different situations. For example, now, his calmness will be interpreted as sincerity. "It's extra giving."
"The favor of a few cookies and the overtime of a legion," Morse joked, "It's an equal exchange. I support it."
"Only your moral level will support it, Morse. "Perturabo said, "I'd better go on a field trip. Is there anyone with me?"
Donne stood up. "Okay."
(End of this chapter)