Chapter 176 Warriors and Hounds
Fricks was one of the first warriors to gather at the space port where the Iron Morning Star was about to dock. To be precise, he turned his head the moment the list was read out. Go all the way to the designated vehicle stop location.
He was accompanied by some battle brothers who had no regrets, such as Bill Perrin, the only war blacksmith chosen in this mission. This excellent naval commander was an outlier among the Iron Warriors. Sometimes when looking at the sea of stars, he would show a little melancholy that was different from others. The brothers joked that he must have written a collection of war poems in private. Regardless, he returned to Terra with nothing.
After the transport vehicle was full, they were sent to the port to wait. What surprised Frix and even all the first batch of arriving warriors was that Perturabo was on the platform of the port, picking up He took off his helmet and held it in his hands, waiting for their arrival alone in the wind whistling high in the sky.
"You are here." Perturabo said, as if he was suddenly awakened from his meditation, and his complex and huge thinking had just returned to the reality of Nuceria from an infinite distance.
Outsiders would definitely think that the stern and sculptured facial lines of the Iron Lord at this time symbolized some kind of coldness before the outbreak. However, the Iron Warrior knew that the Gene Father actually had amazing tolerance and tolerance for his people.
So far, his anger has only been fully demonstrated in battles against the enemy, while the culprits among his descendants have received more fleeting disappointment - even if the cold disappointment is far more severe than the cold disappointment. Angry roars hurt even more.
"You are here early. Don't have anything to bring?" asked Perturabo, allowing the group of armored scions to gather around him.
Everyone shook their heads. Frix was thinking of Ahriman, who claimed to live in the library and refuse visitors these days. He looked back on his last conversation with his friend and felt that the effect was actually pretty good, so he didn't dwell on it anymore.
Perturabo breathed slowly, the cables above his head reflecting silver light meekly.
"Don't you need your poetry collection, Bill?" he asked from the warsmith, and his words confirmed the rumors among the warriors.
Flix looked at the brother nicknamed "The Good Captain" and caught the sound of the power armor locking in the air. He could imagine that many of the thirty or so brothers present were secretly laughing in their hearts.
"No need, Father." Bill Perrin said dully. "I..."
"What's wrong?" asked Perturabo. "This is your hobby, are you considering giving it up?"
The war blacksmith was silent for a second.
"No, Father. I just think..." He hesitated, but his trust in Perturabo allowed him to finish the rest of his words while feeling a surge of heat in his ears: "This sounds like a new life. So I should write a whole new collection of poems.” "We're brothers," Bill said, his voice amplified.
"Okay, I will see for you whether Sachin Roy secretly dug out your poetry collection and published it in your market. Bob, what about you? No need to talk to your Say goodbye to the captain?”
“He will definitely give me his carvings,” Bob said, taking advantage of the fact that he would no longer have to meet the squad leader, and his words were particularly frank, “but his skills are very poor, and I don’t want to be around him. I have had an ugly pendant hanging on my shoulder armor for decades in secret missions.”
There were bursts of laughter from some steel helmets, and a smile also flashed in Perturabo's ice-blue eyes. These warriors who were about to leave the expedition team seemed to be in a better mood than he thought, which was why he came here today to wait in advance - he was not sure how the Iron Warriors viewed this secret mission.
"What about you," the Iron Lord lowered his head and scanned the crowd. Being able to recognize the identity of the warrior inside the armor at a glance through identical armor of the same series may be a universal talent of the Primarch, or it may be Perturabo's personal ability. "Kaidomo Frix? Won't you say goodbye to Azak Ahriman?"
"He is conducting research." Frix said honestly. "When he makes up his mind, no one can find him."
"Okay," Perturabo pondered, but still asked a question he was worried about: "Do you think that my The decision was too rash, and you have doubts about the unknown mission? Are you really willing to accept this sudden instruction? "
This caused Fricks' confusion. He did not understand the concerns in the words of the genetic father. He could only express his thoughts sincerely: "I do, father."
"Even if you know nothing about the mission ahead?"
"We know we are going to contribute to the restoration of humanity." Frix said, "That's all I need to know."< br>
Perturabo's question remained unanswered. He knew that Frix was not being perfunctory, but this was not enough to answer his worries. Then his warsmith spoke.
“We are warriors, father.” Bill said in a soft tone different from most Iron Warriors. His sensitivity may be the unique talent of this poet-like warrior. “We love you, not only because of you. He is the father of our genes and the master of the legion. Our love and obedience come from our same dream. It has nothing to do with the external conditions that fix our mutual position. What we love is you."< br>
——
"How?" said Morse, playing with the little soldiers on the table. "Are you embarrassed by the children?"
"No." said Perturabo of Terra, tearing off the painted The drawing paper full of messy sketches was thrown into a ball into the wastebasket, but fell outside because it was thrown incorrectly. He stretched out his arm to pick up the paper ball and put it in the wastebasket.
“This is what you have to ask yourself.” Morse said with a smile, “You yourself underestimated the determination of your soldiers. They are not the vast majority of citizens under your rule. For their own Pay the rewards you can get and endure a certain degree of difficulty - in fact, these warriors don't feel that they are enduring difficulties at all. Their inner driving force is extremely noble and powerful, and the unprecedented glorious achievements in human history are themselves influenced by Aspen. Tate's quest."
"For them, the opportunity to sacrifice is the reward."
"They are warriors," Perturabo repeated. Again.
"My Lord of Iron." Morse flipped the switch on the back of the soldier, "After so many years of fighting, do you realize it?"
The crudely made soldier was mechanically powered. Driven by the force, he automatically swung the sword with a somewhat clumsy momentum. Perturabo let the little soldier come to his palm, deftly opened its shell, and began to help Morse perfect this overly simple robot. He couldn't bear to let this little soldier with yellow and black shoulder armor continue to throw around.
"I have seen it a long time ago," said Perturabo. "When will the war hounds arrive in Nuceria?"
"Oh, you tell yourselves over there to look up." Morse said. "The Steel Morning Star has set sail. Don't continue blowing wind on the platform. Be careful of being hit by the drop pod."——
"You're here, Kahn." Jaeger said, with a strange expression that Kahn had never seen before.
Although this battle-hardened captain used all the self-control an Astartes could muster to maintain his apparent composure, the subtle changes in the movements of many muscle groups on his body and the reasons on his body Adrenaline and other chemicals secreted by emotional changes still exposed his emotions. He didn't look like he had just met his genetic father, but rather like he had narrowly escaped from a pressing battle.
What is even more difficult to understand is that Kahn did not smell any bloody smell from him that truly symbolized the impending crisis.
Kahn pointed to the door, and the company commander nodded to him. They all know that their Primarch is waiting in this room, but the difference is that Jagger has just walked out of it, and Kahn is about to enter.
It was the third hour that the Resolute Resolve was docked in orbit around Nuceria. After boarding the massive ship, their Primarch seemed determined to fight against the War Hounds for their own. In the triumphal hall built by the Primarch, he met individually with the commanders of his legions in order.
This was not a shocking decision, but the entire battleship did fall into silent silence because none of the company commanders who entered the room—except Jaeger who came out to watch the door—came out again. The decks and corridors, usually noisy with the clamor of Astartes warriors and weapons testing, fell into a mysterious silence.
Kahn listened to the voice behind the door. Behind this door, he also only captured a strange silence, like a large battlefield where only flying dust was still moving, and the hail of bullets had subsided. He didn't know what it meant.
If this had happened in normal times, Kahn might have raised his vigilance to the highest level, but facing this ordinary hatch in front of him, he was strangely unable to raise any negative vigilance - he even There was no trace of uneasiness in my heart.
Before meeting the original body, Kahn had already pinned his emotions on him, and even the thought of him meeting the Gene Father made his blood flow faster.
"Here..." Kahn gestured to the door, asking Jagger with his eyes why he was acting so strangely, and why his eyebrows and facial muscles were still trembling.
"Be prepared, Kahn." Jaeger said, the corner of his mouth twitching, "Accept him."
"He is the core of our bloodline." Kahn said, "He is the one we should follow. Man. He brings us a mission, and all we need is to obey."
Jegel turned his face, his expression extremely stiff. Kahn noticed that the dazzling ornaments on the blue and white formal dress that Jaeger wore to welcome the original body today had disappeared, but the lightning bolt's coat of arms was still on his shoulders as a symbol of war merit.
He couldn't think of why, but he didn't continue thinking. Apparently this was the Primarch's decision.
Kahn gave a final nod to Jaeger, and then knocked on the door.
He still remembered that he heard the news that the Sixth Legion was lucky enough to find the original body in the training ground. When Perturabo returned to Terra, they were exploring unknown crises in a wild world. He still vividly remembered how the calmed Ninth Legion described the Primarch of the Fourth Legion that they had seen with their own eyes, and every piece of news made him expect more of the emergence of his Primarch.
Kahn's heart has never been at peace since they learned that Angron asked to see them on Terra. They arrived without delay, even temporarily ignoring the occasional strange behavior of the astropaths on the ship.
"Come in." He heard a low thunder as if ringing in his ears, knocking on the blood vessels connected to his heart.
His teeth were clenched with excitement, and he completely ignored the very light laughter that seemed to come from where Jagger was behind him.
The door lock automatically unlocked, and in front of him, a deep staircase stretched silently. Kahn walked inside without fear, and the door closed again behind him, blocking out the light. Darkness and silence enveloped him together.
The steps were long and low, which made Kahn, who had been here more than once, feel strangely strange.
Kahn began to think that Jaeger might have played a little trick to scare people. He didn't know why this company commander with a weak sense of humor suddenly had such leisure. The dark vision usually closely associated with crisis did not affect Kahn's thinking at all. In fact, he felt an inexplicable warmth. And Kahn trusted his fighting instincts.
Kir, Kunna, Anchiz... His brothers should be here, sharing the same hall with the Primarch, silently for so long. He felt envious.
His steps moved forward steadily, then sped up slightly.
Primarch. he thought.
He breathed and stepped forward, hoping his gown would stay flat with the movement. He would never wear such restrictive clothing, but like the rest of his brothers, Kharn sincerely hoped to make a good first impression on his Primarch.
Suddenly, there seemed to be some movement from the darkness, and then a gust of wind rushed toward him. Kahn reflexively touched his back. Then, he controlled his hand and withdrew the intention to take out the hand. At this time there was no movement of the tomahawk being worn at all.
When a warm and huge touch overwhelmed him, took him away, messed up his clothes, and made him lose all ability to think and even breathe in an instant, Kahn's body was not affected by it. He softened under control, the hot sensation vibrated his nerves and flesh, and the strong emotions gushing out of his heart made his thoughts tangle.
The temperature of the earth and red sand was embracing him in the form of arms wrapping around his body, and his arms felt hot. He didn't understand what was happening right now, and the excessive amount of information and emotions took away Kahn's clear consciousness. His hands were so numb that he seemed to have lost touch, his soul was screaming silently, and the urge to cry made the whole world start to spin around his spine. Hot breath rolled over his cheeks and blew directly into his brain. In the triumphal hall, the lighting of the lights and the sudden burst of laughter from the surrounding battle brothers seemed to come across deep water, making it impossible to identify and respond.
After a while, Kahn's brain started to work again, splitting and combining the information that his senses could understand one by one, allowing him to once again understand who he was and where he was.
A face, the face of the Primarch, lay just before his eyes. So strange, so familiar. He saw the shadows of countless Legion brothers in the Primarch's bronze skin and the lines of his jaw, while the Primarch's golden eyes selflessly contained the true meaning of all words and entities in the world. All the waiting is fulfilled here and all the questions are answered. The past years are given an end. In the arms of the genetic father, Kahn was born for the second time.
"Don't be dazed, child." Angron said, stopping his embrace, still squatting in front of his heir, and covering Kahn's shoulders with his large hands.
His deep voice is gentler than anyone else in the world, as if it has echoed in Kahn's life and soul thousands of times.
"It's not easy to hold you. As long as the light is on, if I take one step forward, you have to take three steps back. I am Angron, what is your name?"
"Captain of the 8th Assault Company, Kahn." Kahn heard himself say, annoyed that his voice was too flat and uncontrollable, "Father, my life belongs to you."
(End of this chapter)