Chapter 177 Some Small Talk
"This is a very boring question, Perturabo." Morse's hand slipped across the long-awaited steel fence and stood leaning against the railing in the shuttle. "What's so special about the Resolute? First, you have to tell me what's special."
Behind him, Perturabo sat in the shuttle, letting the sights of the Ironblood shine before him He walked backwards behind him. Even though the Primarch's brain could process thousands of pieces of information in a microsecond, he still focused most of his attention on Morse.
"Speciality is what is different from my Iron-blooded one," said Perturabo, "what is worthy of your suggestions or criticisms. You are keen to comment on everything you see, but I have not yet I heard you commenting on Angron's Legion."
"Oh, I didn't pay attention," Morse said casually, looking up at the simple decorative structure of the dome above the Iron Blood. "I want to correct a small misunderstanding of yours. It's not something closely related to me, and I don't always have enough drive to appreciate and comment on it."
"On the Fortitude Resolve, I spent most of the time among the astropaths. The psychic climate there was relatively pleasant, and there was a food supply suitable for mortals. Unfortunately, some people with three eyes seemed to capture them in the later period. I found some unusual traces, so I made some innocuous technical adjustments to their memories... At this point, I discovered that I have not been to the mortal kitchen of the Iron Blood. Do they eat more canned food or freshly cooked food? "
"Depends on the natural environment of the recently conquered planet. The staple food served in the recent canteen should be saltwater fish from the ocean planet RA-113." Perturabo replied, he signed about a year ago This question can be easily answered by the regulations that authorize the Legion's mortal auxiliaries to consume rigorously tested local foods from various planets.
“Sounds good,” Morse said.
"I don't think it can compare to the standard of the kitchens in the Palace of Terra."
"Hey, Perturabo, I smell something provocative."
"I didn't mean that."
Morse smiled, glanced at Perturabo, and continued to watch the Iron Blood's condition.
This is the first time the Artisan has returned to the Ironblood in the years since Perturabo and Rogal Dorn set off from Inwett and Morse sailed back to Terra alone. As for the last time I took a shuttle with Perturabo to observe the Glory Queen-class battleship designed by the Iron Lord, it dates back to even longer ago.
In his eyes, the ship had not changed much.
A system of multiple components, connections and pipes faithfully transports and handles various fluids, gases or solids, fuel and air are properly mixed and burned under the supervision of coolant, and multiple processes are regularly The maintenance brackets, tunnels and components are welded to each other. Due to Perturabo's personal relationship with the Mechanicus, it is difficult to evaluate the quality - the Mechanicus has not yet given further results on the restoration of some species. This is not so much a lack of ability. , rather it is a subtle statement on Olympia's overly independent nature - the Iron Warriors' own technical maintenance sergeants and mortal servants are endlessly conducting efficient detection and inspection, maintaining the complex firepower of this huge ship. and power system.
Everything operates stably within the originally established rules and functions, converting countless huge human and material resources through the transfer and collection of battleships into actual forces that supply the Emperor's Great Crusade. Numerous intertwined steel pipes support the arteries of the grand aspirations of the human empire in both the material and symbolic fields.
In a sense, the determination and soundness that remain unchanged despite the war are the best phenomena.
At this point, Morse sometimes wondered whether Rogal Dorn's presence had subtly given Perturabo a positive influence associated with this trait. This was the reason why he admired people like Donne, but it was not enough for him to actively establish an overly close relationship with Donne. That undoubtedly means approaching a stubborn rock that actively places infinite tasks on its shoulders.
He stood up a little straighter, changed his stance, and talked face to face with Perturabo. "Objectively speaking, there is really nothing particularly noteworthy about the War Hounds," Morse said. "Like any Legion, their positive and negative traits are within acceptable limits."
"In their treatment of the conquered, they were ruthless killers. This was undoubtedly the specialty chosen by the Emperor for the Twelfth Legion when he assigned duties."
"And in their view of the Primarch, they Some of the Astartes warriors who had high expectations for the return of the original body, such as the representative Captain Kahn of the 8th Assault Company, made up their minds to obey the moment they learned of the original body's existence. Others, such as one of their pharmacists, Garan Sulak, expect the original body to inject the new home planet culture into the Legion and give the Legion a more recognizable cultural identity. The pharmacist is a talented person. A man of daring, he is adept at fulfilling the full mission given to him, but he is truly willing to do more than what is asked of him."
"Ambition?" Perturabo suggested. Morse often uses positive words to describe negative things.
"I don't know," Morse said. "I still like the nervous little pharmacist on your ship. His name is..."
"Titus."
"Titus. He is more reassuring to people like us."
"His professional abilities are worthy of recognition, but his character can also be corrected." Perturabo replied, "I have seen During the debates at the Agora fair among the descendants, Titus was often the one who chose to give in, regardless of whether his views were right or wrong. "
Morse pointed out. Nodding: "Beautiful conclusion, remember to tell this to your new brother. I watched the entire meeting ceremony between the War Hounds and the Primarch in the shadows, as well as their internal discussion of changing their name to the World Eaters. A name The captain named Jaeger praised Angron, thinking that if his gladiators could conquer the city, then the war hounds could conquer the world for him. "
"Is there any problem?" Perturabo asked, but his tone didn't sound like a question.
"Maybe, maybe not." Morse shrugged. "Objectively speaking, I do like their new name better than the War Hounds. It emphasizes the subjective drive of the Legion rather than blind obedience to its master - don't tell that to the Emperor. By the way, Rogal Do Where is the grace?”
The Primarch's office was approaching, and Perturabo stood from his seat in the shuttle and straightened the tubes above his head. Some short black stubbles have grown back, covering the scalp. It’s not difficult to imagine how, over time, new black hair will achieve a visual harmony with these matte material cables.
"He is leading the troops." The original body said, "The Imperial Fists are indeed more offensive than my Iron Warriors. He should be on an unnamed planet at the moment, with psychic technology as the basis. Fighting against the Lord's small human polity."
"It's really busy," Morse commented briefly.
"I'm equally busy." Perturabo said, his expression becoming complicated. Both knew he was referring to the Webway.
After the shuttle arrived at the destination, the fence was automatically removed. Morse was the first to step onto the ground. He reluctantly chose the former between respecting the door lock of the Iron-Blooded Primarch's office and showing off his psychic abilities. Let Perturabo complete his identification.
(End of this chapter)