Chapter 360 The Odyssey of the Battalion Commander and the Sergeant
Time is frozen at the moment when the stasis grenade, dark green energy stone and entropy field are handed over. The charge of the Hrud people is contained, and almost all of them are attacked by the spread of energy waves. Tumbled backward.
Subsequently, the energy stone began to tremble violently, and broken crystal blocks continued to collapse from the boulder. The energy index fluctuated rapidly in the helmets of the two warriors, rapidly increasing towards the dangerous level of death. A sharp pain ignited between the bones.
Zolan gasped violently, staggered forward, and a brief cheerful smile appeared on his face under the helmet. "Battlemaster, we both can be considered, ahem, to live up to our father..."
Dantioch said nothing, grabbed Zoran's arm armor, pulled him and started to stumble and run.
"Hey, Battalion Commander -"
"Shut up and breathe!" Dantioch roared, no longer hiding the hoarseness of his voice. He forcefully pulled Zoran and sprinted towards the tunnel leading to the Hrud spaceship port that he had previously favored, trying his best to escape from the chaos caused by the energy stone and the loss of timing.
“But——”
Dantioch cursed loudly, squeezed out all the air from three damaged lungs, and shouted: “We swear to live, sergeant. !”
The temporary stimulating potion was injected into the sergeant’s body through the working module of the armor. This potion was provided by the Eighth Legion and was adapted from the failed Heartbreaker potion from the Olympia Games. It has now been removed. Most of the side effects actually activate the potential, or extract the potential of the Astartes body in advance.
Zoran tried to regulate his breathing rhythm, feeling the renewed vitality in his tired limbs. He gritted his teeth and followed, and at the same time threw a few stasis grenades to intensify the energy and time in the room behind him, betting that they could escape before the turbulence swallowed everything up.
The tunnel collapsed chasing them. He could not calculate how long or how far the two of them ran. Every time they took a step forward, a few meters away, there was a glassy stone behind them heading into nothingness. It collapsed and solidified, turning into a split road composed of broken stones, frozen in the long and dark depths, turning into a still picture.
Zoran swallowed the rusty taste in his throat, and globs of liquid still seeped out from his clenched teeth, dripping close to his neck and onto the dark lining inside the armor. A sharp stone hit his shoulder bone from behind. He grabbed a piece of more gravel, glanced at it briefly, confirmed that it was a fragment of the energy stone, and put it in his satchel.
“Here!” Dantioch shouted.
"Damn it!" Zoran cursed, "Damn it!"
He followed the battalion commander and fell into a disconnected hall. He tripped over a thick cable on the ground and was pulled up by Dantioch. Hot blood flowed from Dantioch's hand through the cracks in his gauntlet, covering Zoran's wrist.
Dantioch's guess is correct. This is the flight port of the Hrud people, directly connected to the sky. Anticipating the coming crisis, these Hrud people were also escaping by boat at this time, and the boarding ramp was especially busy.
“Go and grab one!”
“Both of us?” Zoran asked in disbelief, then strangled a nearby Hrud to death, took away the opponent’s weapon, but couldn’t find it The trigger position is simply used as an iron rod, which can be swung vigorously to smash any enemy he can reach into the ground.
“Who the hell could it be!” Dantioch glanced around and picked out a miniature ship whose hatch had just opened before many Hrud people could get on board. .
Zoran followed Dantioch behind and smashed another stasis grenade. The Hrud screamed and were torn apart.
At the critical moment of survival, these cavemen gave up trying to confront the two hell-raising Space Marines who were not afraid of life and death, and rushed to the remaining ships. Zoran turned around and entered the ship, following the battalion commander into the driver's cab - thanks to this being a fairly standard miniature ship, it had a similar structure to several ships the Iron Warriors had captured.
Zolan quickly cooperated with Dantioch and began to turn on the dozens of complex switches, and nervously checked the factors that determine life and death, such as fuel and door airtightness, until the engine suddenly roared. , and then enter stable operation.
"It's yours, Captain," Zoran coughed, "but why is the Port of Hrud underground?"
"Sit down," Dantioch ordered sharply. , "Stop talking!"
Zoran held on to the bulkhead and slowly sat down halfway before falling to the ground.
The sergeant forcibly disconnected the nerve connection, removed part of the armor, took out some active injections from the malfunctioning injection module, and planned to inject himself. After taking out the potion, he found that he could not lift his hand again.
"Don't look back, battalion commander." He said with difficulty.
“What is there to see?” Dantioch cursed, not having time to look away from the dashboard for the time being. He didn't trust the alien ship at all, but now he had no choice.
The view ahead began to rise, following the other Hrud ships, their ships continued to approach the sky.
Dantioch leaned on the instrument panel and took a few breaths, feeling a little relieved. Just as he was about to turn around, the spacecraft suddenly violently bumped and reversed, throwing the battalion commander and the sergeant against the bulkhead on one side.
The scream of time caught up with Hrud Port.
"Perturabo bless you," Zolan whispered hoarsely, white light suddenly appeared in front of his eyes, the broken reflections were distorted on millions of levels of time and space, the pictures were squeezing and replacing each other as they expanded, He was unable to resist, fell into a gap in his thinking, and was swallowed up in the whirlpool of time and space.
——
A dull throbbing.
First there was some noise, the trembling of fingers, as cold as touching a stone cooled from the embers of a volcano, tingling as if the fingers were not yours.
But who are you?
Then came the sound of wind. The wind surrounds your closed eyes, leaving white scratches like the afterimage of light, but colder and harder, rolling across your sore eyeballs. A fire of pain burned beneath the eyes, inspiring fragments of color. This pain is everywhere, lurking in your throat and leg bones, torturing your fragile consciousness.
After a while, you realize that the wind is your breath. The pain in the fingers comes from the condensation of blood. breathe. This word jumped into your brain. Your lungs squeeze out bit by bit the color of the wind, the color of the airflow, the color of iron, the gray of steel.
That is your identity, your existence, the source of your life.
You are steel.
Your inside is made of flesh and blood, and is like a hollow broken steel frame, letting the cold air scream and reverberate inside, peeling off iron filings and rust.
You can't open your eyes, and there are double buzzes in your ears. One is high, which is the echo left by the alarm in the ship, and the other is low, which comes from your body, your surging Blood vessels, your simultaneous heartbeat.
Your heavy body and stubborn skin wake you up, lift you up from the dull slumber, lift your consciousness to the surface of the cold world, listen to the real wind passing through the corridor, from the ship The air flowed out hissingly from the bellows of the internal air circulation system, and returned to the vent, carrying the unstable tar smell of the equipment, and the heavy breathing of your battalion commander as he dismantled the machinery.
"Are you awake?" The battalion commander noticed your abnormal trembling. He asked hurriedly, almost blurting out, and then fell into suspicious silence, shaking his head at his own illusion.
His disappointment is almost inertial, quick and without pause. It seems that he does not really have confidence in your recovery and is accustomed to his own misunderstandings. He continued to repair the machine in his hand. It was a vague block, iron-colored, looking very worn, and a little weird, as if it should not be a product of human beings.
The battalion commander suddenly drew his knife and cut off a mistakenly entangled iron wire.
You tried hard to do something to attract his attention. Your eyelids opened a little. You didn’t have a helmet. Your helmet was taken off and hung on the ship together with your armor. The walls swayed like dried grass. Your fingers were straining, and there was a small scraping sound as your nails grazed the steel beneath you.
The battalion commander confirmed your action. He stared straight at you, appearing as a rough shadow in your unfocused pupils. He swept away the hair in front of his face, got closer to you, and observed your trembling eyelids.
"Ah, you're awake." He took a breath and pretended it was no big deal, "I thought you were going to sleep until you starved to death, Zoran."
Zoran opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word. His tongue and throat were extremely dry, the result of a month in coma. Dantioch got him a half-cup of water from the water purifier and prepared to take care of his warrior.
"No..." Zolan made a sound in his mouth. He tried to sit up hard, and the macroscopic manifestation of this move was that his skin temporarily became a little tighter.
Dantioch slowly fed Zoran some water. "There is no nasogastric tube, so you drink first." The battalion commander said, and his image became clearer in Zoran's blurred vision.
He wore a simple robe made of tarpaulin, nails and copper wire. His hair was half black and half gray, his face had clear grooves, and a beard roughly trimmed with a knife surrounded his classic serious look. The expression, just like every time they won a battle, was very familiar to Zoran.
It’s just that he is no longer a young general.
Dantioch stared at him twice, squatted down in the middle of the small cabin floor again, and continued to repair his iron box.
"You continue to rest." The camp commander said vaguely. As soon as he finished speaking, Zolan fell into coma again.
When Zoran woke up for the second time, the first thing he said was "You choked me."
Dantioch paused while pouring water for him.
“Lower your head,” he said, his voice thick, “Look at your hands.”
Zoran moved while lying down, but still didn't have enough strength to push himself up. He sighed, his lungs roaring like broken bellows.
"I know...cough, you cut off my hand, battalion commander," Zoran looked up at the string of shaky knotted light bulbs on the ceiling, "I didn't want to drink it myself, either. Can you feed me more slowly?"
Dantioch glared at him: "You'd better shut up now"
Zolan was out of breath with laughter. , Dantioch’s threat also had no follow-up. Zoran moved his eyes and scanned his surroundings. He was still inside the small Hrud spacecraft, surrounded by a pile of components removed from various metal products. The energy stone he put into his bag was sealed in a stasis field modified from a stasis grenade, and hung properly next to the light bulb.
Not far away, the instrument panel was beeping, and a row of instruments were flashing red alarm lights. The covers of several wires were peeled off, and the metal wires inside were roughly twisted together, becoming Typical tutorial on dangerous non-conforming wiring modifications.
Zoran probably understood where the buzzing in his head these days came from.
Some smooth planes reflected his current face, which was a little too wrinkled for a Space Marine, his hair a little too white, and his eyes not sharp enough, like a cold piece of ice thrown into a blender. Butter, tattered.
Zolan looked at it for a while and then laughed to himself.
"Stop laughing," Dantioch couldn't stand it anymore and waved the wrench in his hand at him in a demonstrative manner, "If you keep making noise, you might as well sleep a little longer."
Zoran stopped laughing. "You look at least a thousand years old, or fifteen hundred, brother."
Dantioch hit Zoran hard on the head with his wrench.
Zolan grinned and took a breath, "Sit up for me, battalion commander?"
Dantioch held his armpits and carried him to the bulkhead. He sat down opposite him.
"Some parts of your body were seriously injured," Dantioch said, "I removed your arm and one of your lungs."
Zoran looked down and saw that he was wrinkled In the center of the skin, there is indeed a long scar that runs through the chest. Thinking that their daggers would be turned into powder in the entropy field, Zoran gave up thinking about what Dantioch had cut him.
"We..." He breathed, and the movement was a little too big for him at this time, "Where are we?"
"The Hrud spacecraft." Dantioch hugged his iron Box, replied without looking up.
"No, I mean - the two of us -"
"Satrada Abyss, Ancient Gain Sector," Dantioch answered, playing with the iron box and inserting it into the The hands holding the wire stopped, "The spaceship hasn't gone too far yet."
"Then...ahem, let's go back and find it quickly..."
Zoran coughed violently, his internal organs whining in pain. He fell uncontrollably to the side, and Dantioch immediately came over to right him, silently helping him calm down.
"Father is not here," Dantioch said calmly.
"Ah...it's okay. After all, we have no reason to keep our father waiting here." Zoran optimistically put on a wrinkled smile after finishing coughing, "How long have we been floating?"< br>
“One month.”
“Then I guess we have to go to the funeral monument,” said Zoran. “When you go back, help me go to the Masons’ Club and ask if my brother-in-law is there. Crying behind my back.”
He moved on the spot and repositioned his leg, which was almost numb from pain. "Have you not contacted the empire yet, boss?"
"No." Dantioch looked away and glanced at the porthole. The dark universe beyond.
"I see you have already made a signal bird with your bare hands?" Zolan asked tentatively.
Dantioch put the iron box in his hand between the two of them.
"You're right," the battalion commander said calmly, his fingers curled into a hollow fist at his side, "It's a pity that I didn't receive any signal from the Imperial channel."
"Didn't the Empire leave an official immigration office in the Satrada Abyss?"
Dantioch glanced at him. "I guess I stayed."
"Then...ahem, then why..."
"Because the Hrud haven't moved to the Satrada Abyss yet." Danti Oak's voice echoed emptyly in the small room, hitting the surrounding metal parts, and struck a heavy echo in Zoran's heart, making a choking sound, echoing word after word.
He realized the meaning behind Dantioch's words, and his originally fluent language also stuttered, "You mean, time has gone backwards..."
The battalion commander looked away.
“I detected the planet distribution map in the nearby star area, which is basically consistent with the Satrada Abyss battlefield where we fought previously, but I was unable to find the planetary defense system and nest built by the Hrud. There are no traces of fleet battles. The conditions of the galaxy here are more primitive and uncontaminated by aliens."
He paused for a moment and said slowly: "According to the empire's detection, the Hrud people have moved. At this point, it was at least two thousand years ago at the time point of 845.M30."
Zolan felt that his breathing had stopped temporarily, his headache rapidly intensified, and the unusual weakness hit his spirit instantly.
He reluctantly continued, he had never felt so powerless since he joined the Iron Warriors: "So, we were bombed... into the Satrada Abyss more than two thousand years ago? ”
"I think so," whispered Dantioch. "This is the old night here."
There are no trumpets of the Great Crusade. There is no starlight. There is no guidance from the Emperor.
Except for the isolated world, retrograde technology, troublesome aliens, technological barbarians, psychic empires and other unpleasant things... and maybe some sparks of civilization hidden in dark corners, there is nothing left in the old night.
And they have nothing. A small boat without supplies, two elderly warriors - one of whom is disabled.
There is no legion. No armor. There is no goal. There is no road.
"Then..." Zoran said slowly, "Is there a way for us to go back?"
"Yes," Dantioch said, "That is to bet that the lifespan of a Space Marine is more than three thousand years-"< br>
The battalion commander’s self-made siren suddenly sounded harshly, and Dantioch stood up abruptly, almost missing his waist.
He grunted, rushed to the edge of the dashboard, clicked a lot of buttons, and pulled the bars he needed one by one.
The next second, the spacecraft immediately accelerated forward and rushed out, throwing Zoran to the floor.
The sergeant remained silent, held it in for a while to regain his composure, and shouted: "What's wrong, battalion commander!"
Dantioch took a picture of the firing order, and a stream of gunfire erupted from the simply modified alien ship. The ship's cannon sprayed out violently, accurately chasing the small ship that appeared in the surveillance, exploding a string of broken metal scraps in the universe.
He squinted his eyes and waited until the boat was completely torn apart. Then he breathed a sigh of relief, moved his waist, swayed back to Zoran, and helped the fallen sergeant up again. The serious face still flashed with cold anger, as if the flames of war were reflected on this aging face, burning blazingly.
"We are not the only ones who arrived two thousand years ago, Zoran." Dantioch said solemnly, "We are not the only group of lucky people who escaped. But there is no record in the known history of the empire. The existence of this group of Hrud people.”
Zolan understood Dantioch’s allusion, and a smile mixed with pain gradually appeared on his face. "That's because we're going to kill them all, right?"
"Our mistakes brought the Hrud back to the old night, so we have to make up for our mistakes." Dantioch said, "In this way, when we meet the Primarch again, we are still qualified to say, Pei Turabo's warriors have never failed."
He added: "I have killed four ships of the Hrud."
"Your Majesty, Lord Commander. ," Zolan laughed, "Compared to your past achievements, this is nothing to be proud of, right?"
"If you continue to laugh, I won't go scavenging in that ship. "Dantioch threatened.
Zolan looked down at his stomach, "I won't starve to death for the time being," he said cautiously. If he still had his hands, he would choose to pat his belly.
"I mean, I won't rummage around looking for materials that can be used to make metal prostheses."
Zolan took a breath of air: "Battlecamp Commander, do you still know how to make prostheses?"
br>
“I haven’t learned anything,” Dantioch admitted readily. “If you have any adverse reactions after receiving the prosthetic limb, you have to trust your Astartes physique. Also, don’t use honorifics. "
"What, I must not have woken up. We must be in our spacious infirmary now, with a pleasant sling bottle, lying in the middle of a clean hospital bed, waiting for the pharmacist to come. Take care of our injuries..." Zoran muttered and closed his eyes again.
Dantioch looked at him for a while, patted the sergeant's broken shoulder, quietly returned to the driver's seat, and skillfully piloted the spacecraft, preparing to fly towards the wreckage that had just been destroyed.
"Hey, battalion commander." Zolan's voice suddenly sounded.
"Yes." Dantioch responded, he knew that this boy - this old guy was not asleep.
"We will definitely see the Iron Warriors again, right?" Zoran murmured. "Can you go home?"
"Of course." Dantioch answered firmly.
Zolan stopped making any sound, this time he did fall asleep.
——
“Is this an inhabited planet?” Zoran took the pair of symbolic prosthetic legs that were not connected to the nervous system and propped himself up against the porthole of the boat. "I mean, real humans?"
Danti Okobi faced the star map in his memory and had to speak honestly: "I don't know. But they responded to our signals."
Losing the guidance of the navigator’s family, the boat drifted in the storm of the old night. After encountering several radiation rays that disrupted the magnetic field, the other Heruds fell into this time together. Small boats have become the only type of landmarks in the star sea - there are some systems in the Hrud fleet that can sense each other.
In the beginning, their hunting went very smoothly. No one in Hrude suspected that there were only two enemies in the cockpit of another ship with the same origin as them who were focused on hunting them down.
Relying on this surprise, Dantioch destroyed three more Hrud ships in the first year of wandering, and scavenged supplies from those ships to repair and repair his own ship. More military configurations that the Iron Warriors are accustomed to gradually transform the boat into the appearance of the Iron Warriors.
Zolan once joked with him and asked him whether a small alien boat with all the screws replaced could still be considered the original alien boat.
Dantioch asked him to find parts that were not from alien ships to replace and refurbish, and then discuss the issue.
The hunting in the second year was no longer so smooth. Firstly, the number of Hruds fleeing here decreased. Secondly, the ships they modified increasingly deviated from the original appearance made by the Hruds, and the suspicion of aliens Hence it comes.
The good news is that Zolan's condition is completely stable, and everything is normal except for the lack of hands and lungs. Now he temporarily takes on the role of observer, helping Captain Dantioch with the little things he can. In addition, Dantioch refused to feed him with his own hands and cut out a thin tube to use as a straw for him.
As for more trivial problems of personal survival, Dantioch showed great kindness and put all the craftsman knowledge and creativity he had accumulated in the first half of his life to help the sergeant solve them one by one using scientific and technological means.
It is now their third year of wandering in the universe. In addition to missing their past comrades and the respected Perturabo more and more, they have begun to miss humanity itself.
Zolan leaned against the window, staring excitedly at the approaching planet. "I think that's a spaceport, Grand Commander."
"I think you're right, Sergeant." Dantioch said, "Perhaps the stagnation of human technology is also beneficial."
"The spaceport two thousand years ago is almost the same as it will be two thousand years later," Zoran smiled and patted the window frame clumsily with his metal hand. "I hope they don't have the same skinning hobby as the night ghosts."
"Then, it is indeed time for our names to be engraved on the memorial stone." Dantioch replied pretending to be serious, adjusting the communication channel.
The languages on both sides are very different. The unencoded language can only display a bunch of gibberish for both parties. The battalion commander tried for a while and simply started to draw pictures using mathematical formulas and sent them to the other side in the hope that The other side can understand mathematics and basic semiotics.
This time the attempt was successful, although Dantioch was not sure whether he released the people because he understood what they meant, or because of precious humanitarianism.
Through some primitive communication methods engraved in human blood, Dantioch finally figured out that this was a planet that traded marine products with a few nearby planets and preserved a certain amount of space navigation skills. , but the technology is roughly the same as Olympia before Perturabo's arrival.
Human beings did not welcome these two tall middle-aged and elderly humans very much. They vigilantly examined the scars on their bodies, tested their danger as warriors, and placed them on a relatively remote ocean island.
Dantioch used their technical knowledge to help the locals repair some ancient machinery and, of course, draw house plans. At this point, the Iron Warriors are really familiar with the road.
"If I were a few hundred years younger, I could challenge an army of them alone." Zoran smiled and boasted to Dantioch, taking advantage of the fact that the locals could not understand his language.
"Don't let us lose our food supplies." Dantioch warned his men. "Besides, they sent us materials to repair the spacecraft."
After that, Dantioch used the simple language he had learned in the past two days to politely address the boy who had been helping them deliver food every day. Say thank you - the language he learned is about two greetings, some words to express thirst and hunger, broken grammar, and the most classic local swear words.
After a conversation, the boy told them his name was Marshon.
When Dantioch and Zoran mentioned things in the universe, he often seemed to feel something in his heart. He looked at the two star visitors expectantly, with the most primitive yearning of mankind for the vast world in his eyes.
After the one-month rest, the battalion commander decided to leave.
Considering that he had to take care of the entire ship and deal with Zoran Anderson on his own, he was really overwhelmed. With careful words and a restrained attitude, Dantioch politely asked if there was anyone there. I am willing to go with them and do some auxiliary work as a crew member.
Marshin and a dozen of his companions rushed out of the crowd, eager to grab Dantioch's legs and let him take them away. All these children are orphans.
“But what is the name of your ship?” Marshon asked curiously, raising his neck to look at Dantioch’s stubbled face, “You have never mentioned it.”
Dantioch paused slightly and turned his head to look at Zoran.
The sergeant nodded at him: "It's all up to you, old captain."
The old captain sighed: "Come on, crew. This ship is the 'Odyssey'."< br>
"Then where are you going?" Marshon asked.
"I didn't explain the target location, but you all followed me. There is no discipline." Dantioch said calmly, there was really a shortage of people on their ship, and besides, he was participating in the Great Expedition. It was the first time since then that I had truly communicated with a mortal child so affectionately.
People here don't know Space Marines, and they happen to have no mission against humans. They were suddenly themselves again since the Emperor's Astartes. Although he looks too old, he is actually still a young warrior of several decades. Even though he has experienced hundreds of battles, he still inevitably feels novel when facing areas he has never been involved in before.
"It's the same wherever you go, old captain." Marshon said, "Go to the stars and go far."
Zoran crouched down. His metal arms made the crew very curious and they couldn't stop staring.
"Ahem...we are going to two thousand years in the future, is it far enough?" Zolan asked.
"That's enough!" Marshon grinned cheerfully.
One hundred and fifty years later, Marshon's lifespan came to an end first. He looked at the scene outside the porthole in deep space and died of illness.
He assisted two Space Marines in completing three long-distance pursuits against the Hruds in his life, which is considered an excellent record among the legion's auxiliary forces.
Over the next twenty years, the first batch of mortal crew members of the Odyssey all died one after another.
Dantioch greeted all this in silence. When he was packing away the crew's urns, he rarely looked in the mirror.
He still looks like the sturdy old man from the beginning, almost unchanged.
“Old Captain,” Zoran walked slowly behind the battalion commander, looked at the urn shelf that Dantioch had newly vacated in a cabinet, and shook his head: “If there were black paint and yellow Just paint it."
Zolan's face has aged a little faster than him. The injuries he suffered in the Battle of Hrud nearly two hundred years ago - or two thousand years later - have never been the same. Having received truly suitable medical conditions, in his own words, his ability to survive to this day is all due to the "blessing of the Emperor's genetic technology."
Sometimes Dantioch felt that Zoran would die from the pain tomorrow, and sometimes he felt that Zoran could live forever.
“I’ll do it next time I have a chance.” Dantioch took a step back and observed the shelf he had repaired. "I'm going to take a look at the dishes in the ecological recycling cabin."
"I'll go too," Zoran said.
——
In the 270th year, while pursuing the Hrud ship, the Odyssey accidentally entered the territory of the attacking aliens, which led to a sudden space battle.
Dantioch exhausted all his sailing ability in his life, and finally escaped from the encirclement in a lone boat and returned to the vast star field to get a chance to breathe.
“How many Hrud ships are missing?” Zoran asked.
"There are five left," Dantioch replied, "but they're all far away."
"Really, we should capture an Astropath."
Dantioch Oak looked at Zoran with strange eyes: "The two of us are going to conquer the whole family of navigators?"
"But we don't know the road," Zoran crossed his two metal arms on his chest. "Even after eighteen hundred years, I still won't be able to find my father."
"Let's live until then." Dantioch answered.
Father, Perturabo, Iron Warrior... It has only been more than two hundred years, but when I mention these words that have been buried deep in my heart, it feels like a lifetime ago.
“We can always go home,” Zoran said with a smile.
"Is your home Olympia or Terra? You are a Terran."
"This is the Iron Warriors Fleet, respected old captain."
Danti Ork shook his head, silently remembering the location of this aggressive alien's lair and placing it on his hate list.
——
One morning in Terra Time in the 410th year, Zoran's mechanical hand announced the beginning of a long strike with a loud creaking sound.
The battalion commander studied the cause of the damage to the robotic arm for the sergeant, and finally reluctantly came to the answer - the source lies in the nerve necrosis at the end of the residual limb of Zolan's arm.
"I'm not a neurological expert," Dantioch said with a tense expression, "It can't be cured, there is no hope."
Zoran stared at his hand for a long time. Then he said slowly: "Okay, battalion commander. Is there any compensation?"
"What do you want?" Dantioch asked, "The Odyssey is just that big."
Although this ship has been expanded a lot from the original Hrud boat, even the crew They had all died twice, and the shelf of urns was half full. Each box was engraved with the names of these mortals in the language of their respective home planets.
Now is the time when they are searching for the third batch of crew members across the galaxy.
“Give me a promotion, battalion commander,” Zolan pretended to be pitiful, but unfortunately it didn’t suit his old man’s face. “I have worked hard for five hundred years, and now "You're still a sergeant."
"Wrong," Dantioch said without mercy, "You have only done a mere fifteen hundred years of work. You should encourage yourself and follow Perturabo's example and continue to strive for excellence." The future moves forward.”
"Your Majesty the Emperor, then I have to live for another fifteen hundred years!"
"Don't tell me you can't do it, Sergeant."
——
Zolan’s arm problem turned around ninety years later. The two wandered around the universe, drifting with the flow, and finally bumped into a human civilization with sufficiently advanced technology.
Compared to planets where most technologies have been lost over the years, or civilizations have been lost to barbarism, the civilization of that pocket empire is amazing, whether it is the overall technological advancement or the internal peace indicators. To put it bluntly - even slightly better than the later empire.
"Thank you for your help, Interex," Zoran unaccustomedly moved his upper arm, which had just regained consciousness, and the mechanical arm that was perfectly connected to the nervous system. "We will always remember you."
After some friendly negotiations, they obtained a complete set of body repair surgeries. For hundreds of years, the two of them had never felt so healthy and long-lived.
The two's excessive age has bought them more trust from the Interex people. After all, age often represents the accumulation of wisdom and knowledge, and the reduction of the threat of combat.
The Interexians accepted their thanks and expressed in musical language that they were willing to help their fellow humans who also originated from Terra, not to mention that these were two people who had not been "Kaos" )" Pollution warriors—the Interexians firmly regard such things as their enemies.
"Excuse me, where are you from?" the Interex people asked politely.
Dantioch calmly stroked his beard: "I wonder if you are interested in learning about a country that also yearns for peace and human unity."
"Please speak."
"Although it It doesn't exist today, but in the future 1,500 years ago, the Sky Eagle will soar across the world. That is the Human Empire that we serve - more specifically, we belong to the Iron Warriors Expeditionary Legion."
< br>"We will remember the Iron Warriors from the Human Empire." The Interex people said solemnly. "When we meet again the next day, we will welcome you with good gifts."
They have lived in the Interex Federation for more than ten years, and their communication with the locals has become increasingly harmonious.
This was one of the most unforgettable things during their long journey. Even after leaving, sitting in the cabin that had been refitted by the Interex people, Zoran and Dantioch would still mention that civilization from time to time. surviving federation.
Of course, there is also the Centaur commemorative statue presented to them by the Federation.
The Interrex people will create a mobile combat platform that looks like a centaur to form a centaur warrior, which is extremely mobile. In addition, the crossbows in their hands can shoot through ceramite, the secret of which is unknown.
——
Around 700 years ago, their clock broke once due to long-term careless use and harsh storage environment, so they have no idea of the time. Completely certain, Dantioch and Zoran chased the last escaping Hrud ship across half of the galaxy, and finally caught the ship in what might be the Ultramarine Starfield.
After wiping out the last ship of Hrud enemies, Zoran slumped in his chair, looking exhausted, slowly breathing in the clean air and looking up at the ceiling inside the Odyssey.
“Have we completed our mission, Battalion Commander?” Zolan asked, his gray hair reflecting the cold light of the lighting.
Dantioch turned on the sun lamp and appropriately increased the indoor ultraviolet concentration.
"Forget it." He said, his voice hoarse, as if it had been polished with a thousand pieces of sandpaper, "But the oath is not fulfilled."
Zolan was silent for a while, looking at his pair of Metal prosthetic limb, "There are too many oaths, battalion commander, which one do you want to say?"
"Alive." Dantioch said solemnly, "We swear to live, sergeant."
"Of course," Zoran lowered his metal arm and his voice became firm again, "Steel inside and out."< br>
The following year, they argued a thousand times with the locals on a planet that they were not messengers of God.
Even if they helped the locals drive away an invading alien force, they were still just human warriors.
The local people responded with a smile, turned around and built temples for them, made stone statues, and worshiped them all day long.
The stone statue has an old face, resolute brows, and deep eyes. The white hair and beard are hanging loosely. The robe reaches the ground and floats slightly as it approaches the surface. The posture is solemn and holy, as if it has passed through the ages, which is exactly in line with the human condition. A race's long-standing stereotyped memory of prophets and enlighteners.
Dantioch tried to tell them that he came from the Human Empire and was just a human warrior belonging to the Iron Warriors. Soon he was transformed in the temple into "the exalted saint of the god of steel and craftsmanship."
The two Iron Warriors fled, hoping that a thousand years would erase this false worship. Otherwise, Dantioch might have to explain to the unflappable Primarch why there was a Planet, honors Perturabo as the god of steel and craftsmanship.
——
In the 890th year, the two of them passed by a beautiful planet with a green color and lush vegetation, and felt that the surrounding galaxy environment was very familiar.
When the angle of the planet turned towards the Odyssey, Dantioch was stunned for a while.
"What's the matter, battalion commander?" Zolan asked while coughing, his white hair shaking tremblingly. Even after Interex's medical treatment, he still only had two lungs.
Dantioch was silent for a long time, pointing to the white bulge in the center of the planet.
"That's Mount Telefus, Zoran." He said softly, his eyes hidden in the wrinkles widened slightly, trying to see everything there clearly. "It's just this kind of texture, this kind of shape..."
Zo Lan felt a complex feeling running through his body, mainly sourness, supplemented by sighs. Having traveled with Dantioch for nearly a thousand years, he had never seen the battalion commander showing such emotion.
"That's Olympia." Zoran said, staring at the Primarch's home planet, his nose sore for no reason.
"Olympia," Dantioch murmured, as if he was afraid that he would disturb the silence.
His old and wrinkled fingers pressed against the cold porthole, stroking the texture of the mother star in the air. When he was about to touch the eye-catching mountain, he suddenly retracted his fingers and stood still. If you dare to touch it again, let the white snow peak slowly turn to the other side of the planet.
Zoran looked at Dantioch and felt that time suddenly reappeared at this moment, entangled so obviously with the old man, like a ruthless snare, tightening the giant fishing net.
The past and future on the timeline, and the future and past in their long lives, are exactly intertwined in Olympia at this moment.
Thousands of years later, Barabas Dantioch will be born on this green and peaceful planet. Thousands of years ago, Barabas Dantioch returned home.
The long river of destiny starts here and flows through here, looping around like this, the water flow is eternal.
“Go down and take a look?” Zolan suggested.
Dantioch slowly shook his head, as if he had suddenly aged many years.
"The Primarch has not yet reached Olympia," he said, "and I have never been associated with this place. Why should I suddenly visit this planet and disturb her remaining millennia of peace?"
"What are you worried about, Barabas?" Zoran asked.
Dantioch smiled and left from the porthole, almost tripping over the debris on the ground. "Let's go."
——
When Zolan passed by the urn shelf, his center of gravity while walking on the wall accidentally shifted. His leg had been broken once before, and he had not yet found a human planet with good medical conditions. Since then, Dantioch had to pick up Zoran from all corners of the Odyssey when he fell.
Ten minutes later, the two old men squatted on the ground, moving slowly, keeping the senses in their brains stable, and picked up the mortal urns one by one that had been sealed perfectly in the first place.
"I'm thinking about something, Battalion Commander." Zoran said holding a pile of boxes.
"Say."
Zolan's expression hesitated, and the wrinkles on his face were so severe that they were almost wrinkled mountains formed by years of geological movement.
"I was thinking..." He choked, and heard his lungs once again make a hollow, sharp scream, "I was thinking, when we go back..."
"What's wrong?"
"After we go back, well, what else can we do?" Zoran lowered his head and looked at his steel arms. Recently, these arms have finally reached the end of their useful life and have become less flexible.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean... look, Battalion Commander, we are so old... we can’t see clearly, our hearing is declining, and our legs are shaking when we walk. ..."
"That's because you were shot in the leg."
"Yes, I know, I know everything," Zoran whispered, with a lot of words. Hesitation, and faintly painful fear, "But I am no longer a warrior. My father deserves a better warrior, not..."
He coughed violently, making a thick gasping sound in his throat, and the two remaining lungs twitched in his chest.
"I have never done anything well, Commander. It is you who took care of me... I have been able to get to where I am today."
Dantioch didn't say a word, just said A hand was placed on Zoran's shoulder.
"I don't want to," Zoran coughed and squeezed out his voice, "I don't want Lord Perturabo to see...a three thousand old man with blurred eyes, amputated hands, missing lungs, and half of his legs and feet. Old man... Camp Commander, I don’t want this.”
“How can there be an old man with such a childish temper like you?” Dantioch said. "When the time comes, I'll ask the Father of Genes to make you fearless."
Zoran gritted his teeth, causing his gums to bleed.
"I know." He sighed in defeat. "Can you choose the most comfortable Dauntless? Don't worry about those complaints, of course I want to live. We swore an oath."
"We swore to live, sergeant." The battalion commander said.
——
In the early 1300s, the old people participated in a war to expel aliens from the Sirzati sector. With their military quality and long-term combat experience, it can almost be said that He completely guided the entire battle.
As expected, they were treated with great courtesy and admiration, and Dantioch couldn't help but feel that the Primarch was able to face endless praises from various planets without changing his expression, and he was worthy of being their genetic father.
The specific image of Perturabo has long been slightly vague in the memories of the old soldiers. The specific outline is like a sculpture of sand and stone, eroded and peeled off in the long wind of time, leaving only those The most basic blocks and lines, and those unforgettable impressions.
"Not for fighting," Perturabo's voice echoed lonely in their ears. After all the fifth batch of crew members passed away, the two did not recruit new mortal crew members. "Not for honor."
"For the Empire," Dantioch whispered to himself, tracing the words of the original body. From these distant words, he could always hear the beating of his own heart, " For humanity. As within, as outside."
More than two hundred years later, they passed through Sirzati again.
At this time, the Sirzati sector was already in ruins, with long stretches of yellow sand and strong winds. The ruins of civilization stretched across the planet like scars. Under the excessively high radiation index, the world was left in deathly silence.
Everything they had done for Sirzati was gone and no longer existed.
After they left, some military forces within Sirzati were strengthened by the mobilization to jointly resist the aliens. Two main forces gradually formed and became tit-for-tat.
Things become simple after that. Destruction is always a thousand times easier than construction.
"Fortunately, killing a group of aliens at that time was not a wasted trip." Dantioch said, "What do you think?"
Zoran stood in the middle of the wasteland, holding on to a raised ruined wall, his white hair fluttering in the wind.
“Wearing strong armor, with a heart like steel.” Zoran said, straightening his back, “No matter how much real steel remains in this aging armor; no matter how the world changes, how the country declines. Rise and fall, Steel will fight for you."
Dantioch picked up Zoran's words. His voice was hoarse and unpleasant, they were too old to be able to bring out the passion in their tone.
“We are eternal steel warriors. No matter why the enemy exists, we fight until there is no more left. If our bones fade with the years, if our achievements are defeated by the torrent of time, our The armor will still exist, telling the will of the Legion and the perseverance of the battle."
"Everything will come to an end in the future, and time will reach its end in countless thousands of years, but there is still time before night. Dusk, noon, morning and sunrise. Steel shines in the light, reflecting the sun.”
"Steel begets strength, strength begets will, will begets faith, faith begets honor, and honor begets steel. This is an unbreakable litany."
——
Three years later, Zoran One day he woke up and found that his legs would not allow him to stand up. His whole body seemed to be sinking to the bottom of the Odyssey, and he was exhausted to the extreme.
He was sleepy, and everything in front of him was like an afterimage, but he seemed to be waiting for something new to come, and he didn't want to fall asleep again no matter what.
Over the years, he seemed to be waiting for just that thing to come. Maybe it had already come, maybe it was waiting at the door, watching when Zoran was willing to get out of bed and walk towards it with bare feet. The wind blew in from outside the door and poured into his empty chest, filling the vacancy in his lungs.
Suddenly, his fear reached a peak, and was quickly replaced by a good sense of relief, playing with his aging heart and tying the weak heart strings.
His teeth were chattering, his forehead was hot, and his arms were a little cold. The pair of metal arms seemed to have encountered something colder than cold iron. They pressed heavily on him, making him unable to move. He was extremely cold, the wind was blowing against his heart, and his blood vessels were wandering on their own.
No...he wanted to say, no, no. Here he lay, this familiar place to him, the place where he had lived for a thousand and five hundred years, was now a strange house. The bed he was lying on turned into a strange bed, rejecting his presence. This doesn't belong to him, and he doesn't belong here.
Who is he? Ah, he's not quite sober, so it's really hard to remember. He lies here...his hands are intact, his breathing is smooth, his legs are light. What instrument is he installing for the Entropy Field? What is it? He couldn't remember at all...
Some white light flickered, and the stone escaped from under his feet... There was a green thing hanging on the ceiling... He once wore iron armor, and now it is on his chest There is a long scar... How did he die? How did he stop breathing? Ha... night is here... you all go out, battalion commander, don't look, don't look back, battalion commander... what can't you see? I am very old and seriously injured. The wind has come out of my bone marrow, and it doesn’t look like a piece of steel at all...
He doesn't know... He lies down for a while, and there he is, wearing iron armor... Battalion Commander, close the door, don't let father come in, don't let them come, don't be sad, he is fine, he can jump out of bed tomorrow , running through the triple loop of the Cheorwon...Father, Father, where are you...
See me, I beg you to see me, Father...I made an oath, we Vow to live, sergeant, the Grand Commander said... Steel inside and out, a prayer of steel... Iron armor is immortal... Father, I miss you, Perturabo... I'm sorry... I was wrong... I'm sorry , I made an oath, only five hundred years away...
I'm sorry, I'm lost, see me...
It seemed like a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders; Breathing gradually weakens. The light of day gradually became clearer and brighter in his eyes.
The sunlight shines into the world where he has disappeared, like the reverberation of a beautiful dream.
The battle raged, and the Hrud's cannon exploded in self-protection in the distance. Zoran raised his eyebrows in the helmet, quickened the movement of his hands, pressed down the throttle, and concentrated on adjusting the instrument used to collect the entropy field parameters.
Soon, he raised his head, patted the dirt on his hands, and smiled triumphantly at the battalion commander Dantioch.
"I've done it," Zoran said, "Let's retreat and return to the Cheolwon."
——
Probably more than 1,900 years ago At that time, Dantioch finally met a psyker who could see the light of the Star Torch.
At that time, he was walking on a street with a survival backpack on his back and a suit of armor, not only to cover up his aging image, but also to let the armor support his weak body.
Unless he needs some necessary supplies, he rarely leaves the Odyssey, because every takeoff and landing will cause him great pain.
The psyker's eyes literally glowed when he saw him.
When he came up, he grabbed Dantioch's hand, restrained his excitement and asked: "Excuse me, do you know about the Great Crusade? Do you know about the glory of the Emperor? Can you see that beam of light? No, I'm sorry, but the armor you are wearing looks too much like the Emperor's Angel..."
The gears of time suddenly got stuck, and the self-circling river returned to one direction.
Dantioch endured the pain in his aging shell, grabbed the psyker, and turned his back on his guests. His voice was as thunderous as thunder: "I am a warrior of the Emperor, how dare you offend me like this!"
The psyker almost punched him in the street. kneel.
“What has happened now and then?”
“The thirtieth thousand years, the eight hundred and forty-five seasons...”
“In the name of the Emperor, I will immediately I order you to show the way for those who are galloping across the sea of stars." He ordered.
"Yes, sir, where are you going?"
Dantioch's mouth opened slightly, and he was stunned for a moment, suddenly feeling that the world was in a trance.
He sighed, and the familiar words traveled through time and space, returning gracefully.
"Satrada Abyss."
(End of Chapter)