Chapter 141 This is impossible
If Perturabo thought an hour ago that there were not many things in the world that could truly surprise him, then he had encountered one now.
"Take a look for me, Morse." The Lord of Iron frowned, glaring at the piece of scrap metal floating in the air of the inspection platform with a ghostly expression as if he had bumped into the emperor in the corridor in the middle of the night, "It Why can it resist gravity?"
Morse came over and looked at the broken iron sheet.
It looks like a part removed from some poster shelf, with half of the fancy paint sprinkled on it, and brown rust corrosion caused by years of neglect.
There are no anti-gravity-related components installed on the surface of the iron sheet, nor are there any imprints of witchcraft or psychic energy. There is only a brown-red picture that looks like an arrow or a big tooth, but it just floats around like this. , just like the gravity stabilization device on the Phalanx has long since failed, and this thing is flying freely in the universe.
Morse raised his eyebrows slightly and reached out to the iron sheet. There seems to be a vague spiritual connection on this piece of iron sheet, which leads directly to a huge and mysterious consciousness hidden behind the scenes... Wait, one, or two?
Before he actually came into contact with the iron sheet and dismantled the weird force field connected to it, the iron sheet seemed to have suddenly lost its vitality and fell back to the table with no tendency to resume floating.
"How did you do it?" Dorn asked. "Are there hidden mechanical components on it?"
Although he is not as proficient in steel creation as Perturabo, this does not mean that Dorn knows nothing about it. After all, the maintenance of the Phalanx was mainly completed by Inwit's mortal engineers, and Perturabo only accelerated this process. But this strange creation that violated convention was completely beyond the scope of his common sense.
"Hmm..." Morse retracted his hand, and the curse rune flashed, burning the tip of his finger for a round of insurance. "What a pity, I have never seen such a thing."
"Really?" Perturabo asked.
“Just because I have lived a long time does not mean that I am a galactic encyclopedia.” Morse replied, “But we can assume that the attackers either have very high psychic attainments, or their technological level has reached a far higher level. Beyond the imperial level, otherwise we would not be able to explain all this."
"If so, this will not be an easy battle," Dorn said. He was not afraid, and was simply thinking about how to win his first battle since returning to the empire.
In his mind, some vague portraits of the enemy were taking shape - a vicious and mysterious psychic group, surrounded by cold and strange lightning, relying on reckless first-round shots to cloud their judgment; or a The mechanized high-tech cluster uses cold iron tentacles to walk. It can command the ship's macro cannon to fire a salvo by raising its hand.
"Just be prepared." Morse said, "Let go of your hands and feet first. If there is a problem that you can't solve, call me again - although I think the possibility of encountering such a serious situation is different from the fact that we found this piece of scrap iron." The probability of levitating is almost the same.”
Donne’s eyes stopped on Morse.
"You'd better not say any more disappointing things like 'your job is free'." Perturabo paused, "Rogal Dorn."
"I won't say these words again," Dorn replied seriously, "I'm just thinking about the upper limit of the fleet size that Morse can fight against."
"Oh, the Primarchs." Morse spread out his arms. With both hands, he threw a bolt of lightning to effectively disinfect the scrap metal on the table, "What I want you to call me for is that I will report to the emperor and ask him to send a fleet to rescue. My diligence is not enough to support me. Fight personally.”
"I'll keep that in mind," Dorn said. Perturabo sighed: "Ask your soldiers to send the remaining parts here, and I will see if I can find more clues from other relatively complete parts."
"This piece is the largest piece of debris salvaged by the Mortal Auxiliary Army."
"Then send all the remaining parts, and give me enough draft paper. I need to make comprehensive statistics and calculations. ”
Perturabo rubbed his fingers together. Such a confusing creation successfully aroused his long-lost anger and competitiveness, and he allowed himself to indulge his emotions in a place where the life of a soldier was irrelevant.
Dorn pressed the data pad to find his subordinate. Aeolus arrived in the analysis room earlier than he expected, and Donne immediately understood that this was because Aeolus had something to report to him.
The former Imperial Fist commander bowed his head in salute, and then spoke quickly: "A ship transporting semi-finished building materials was suddenly attacked by aliens. Since there was no military protection nearby, all the citizens on the ship have undoubtedly devoted themselves to eternal life. Great work in the light of the Skyhawk. We are fortunate to have the final footage of the ship, which has been sent to the strategy room. In addition, the remaining shell fragments are on their way to the analysis room and will be available soon."
Petula. Beau and Dorn looked at each other, receiving some kind of tacit permission in each other's eyes. Then the Iron Lord said to the Imperial Fist warriors: "Send the video here together, and we will analyze it while processing the fragments."< br>
Aeolus hesitantly looked up at his genetic father, feeling a silent shock from Dorne's calm majesty.
"Yes, my lord." He omitted the precise pronoun and left quickly.
What was sent first was the last video of the ship before its sacrifice.
It begins with an ordinary voyage log, recording how they brought semi-finished building materials used to expand the non-military functional components of the Rogal Dorn fortress from Inwit's subordinate planet to the middle of the route. Set a route to the ice and snow world.
Then, during the ordinary voyage, the subspace stability displayed by the auspicious device suddenly fluctuated greatly. Immediately afterwards, a gigantic and strange thing sprang out from the void. The entire ship was simply pieced together from garbage and scraps. It was painted with extremely ugly yellow-green paint. The sealing and shape design They were all in a mess, and seemed to be accompanied by loud, hearty and wild howls.
It is a complete miracle that this thing that insults Perturabo's mechanical knowledge can operate, not to mention that it even rammed through the void shield and hit the ship with an attitude of contempt for physics. In the middle, the fragile scrap metal was like the best quality bumper in the empire, easily cutting through the obstruction. Perturabo's eyes widened slightly when he saw it, and his fingers on the table were trembling.
"It's not quite like psychic powers." Morse said softly. “Not very scientific either—scientific in the conventional sense.”
"Replay this," Perturabo muttered, then amplified his voice, "Replay!"
Dorn flipped the progress bar on the data pad and showed Perturabo frame by frame. This completely shattered Perturabo's understanding of the ship. The Lord of Iron's pen was suspended on the draft paper. At first, he wrote a large number of shorthand symbols at a speed that was difficult to distinguish in the afterimage. Gradually, Perturabo stopped writing, and the trembling pen tip showed the shock he had received mentally.
"This is impossible." Perturabo maintained a calm expression, "Their technology is indeed not within the scope of my analysis. Going forward, I want to know what kind of advanced race can create It is so...simple and practical, and can also use its bizarre appearance to conceal the true level of technological wisdom.”
(End of this chapter)