Chapter 496 Next Step
"It's their interference again," the captain said, his hands trembling from days of work resting on the edge of the data medal socket, staring at the latest bright yellow information marked on the instrument panel.
“Where do they want to take us this time?” said the Admiral. “Ignore it.”
“No, Admiral, we should avoid it, they left behind last time. Trap..."
"They are playing tricks on us, those Hydras," the admiral gritted his teeth and leaned forward, holding on to the back of his chair, feeling that his head was buzzing with the fans of the Thinker Array around him. Buzzing, "How do they travel through subspace?"
"Rely on the grace of those who can see in the dark." A voice came from the far end, and more than thirty mortals with different responsibilities in the room stopped working and turned around to pay tribute - except for those who had urgent work to deal with. Some Primarchs were required to kneel when faced with it, but this did not include Rogal Dorn in times of war.
The thick steel door slid to both sides on the track. Amid the rumbling echo, a particularly tall giant and about five warriors wearing amber yellow and white robes entered the hall.
Even though none of them were wearing armor, their identities were obvious: five members of the Haskar Guard, and Rogal Dorn, the Primarch of the Imperial Fists.
Dorn's face was as cold as his voice, and the last shadow before the hatch opened painted a deep shadow on his face.
"Any new situation?" He asked directly, skipping any pleasantries.
"We are still at the edge of the Sun Star Domain, sir," the captain reluctantly calmed down and described the predicament they encountered. "Technically speaking, we should be able to reach the Cerberus Fortress on Pluto, and we are also sailing towards Terra at high speed. , but in fact our position does not seem to be moving in the right direction."
Roger Dorn was not surprised, there was only a glacier shadow on his face.
The Primarch's calmness reminded the captain of Rogal Dorn's previous rare rage... The man in silver and green armor was smashed into the ship's sturdy and unbreakable wall, and debris and The broken steel was mixed with floating dust and blood beads... and then he let go, and the messenger fell to the ground in an extremely embarrassed manner, but there was still no permanent damage to him...
In this extremely brief moment In the passing memories, the envoy of the 20th Legion was finally watched by Rogal Dorn and returned to the depths of the galaxy, but the news he brought echoed within the Imperial Fist for a long time. That piece of news even made the captain silently lament the excellent self-control ability of their genetic primitives: the Alpha Legion invited them to jointly prepare and participate in the annihilation of the traitor's home planet of Prospero.
This aroused an inevitable confusion and discussion within the fleet. Roger Dorn ordered the fleet not to be disturbed by the Alpha Legion's unfounded words. However, in private, the captain could vaguely feel that It seems that Rogal Dorn does know or can guess a lot of things... that make him have to hide his emotions.
Since then, the light of the star torch has become increasingly dim. At first, this beam of light was slightly brighter because they were getting closer to the solar system. The navigators wearing strange headdresses were happy about this. However, not long after the invitation of the Alpha Legion arrived, it was difficult for them to see any guiding light. .
The universe completely closed the door to navigation in front of them. The fear of facing the darkness was not enough to defeat them, but the ensuing troubles and the interference of the Alpha Legion were difficult to get rid of...
said It was inappropriate for the Alpha Legion to interfere. In fact, Rogal Dorn was the one who took action first. After returning the envoy, his first order was to prevent this snake-like legion from leaving their detection range. Head to Prospero to reinforce the Luna Wolves they say are on a mission.
Soon, they launched a delaying and intercepting battle with the Alpha Legion on the edge of the Sun Star Territory. They were both soldiers under the Emperor's command, and the conflicts between them always remained at the same civilized level at first. , until Roger Dorn asked a question and never waited for an answer.
"Is Hydra involved in the theft of the nemesis blade?"
A simple and sharp question, as sharp as the beak of the eagle on Rogal Dorn's armor, and even more dangerous. Such a question seemed to have an obvious answer, but the Alpha Legion refused to answer...or they gave up lying in front of the Primarch of the Imperial Fists.
Since then, both sides have begun to truly use thermal weapons that can demonstrate the level of the empire's military technology. The situation has escalated from a test. If it continues to be delayed, sooner or later, the Phalanx will officially join the battle. Within the formation.
——Rogal Dorn noticed his distraction. His expressionless light eyes glanced sharply at the captain's face, and then moved away: "The only thing we can do now is to catch them until we get an answer that must be clarified. I look forward to our next results. . ”
There seemed to be some profound meaning in his words, but the primarch did not say a word.
"My lord, what if this is not... the only thing we can do?" On the side, the admiral noticed that the meditator had just received a new message, and his voice could not help shaking with joy.
Dorn's eyes quickly turned away and he paused slightly.
"Just now, the star torch has regained a certain brightness," the admiral said quickly, the reflection of the hologram glowing in his eyes, "the navigator reported that this is enough for us to carry out certain coordinate reference. , and conduct subspace navigation under the premise of caution. The Astropath also proposed that they can conduct some limited contact work. We will not continue to be restricted by the blindness of darkness, my lord-"
Roger Do. En interrupted him smoothly, his voice so steady that it seemed less an urgent interruption than a powerful declaration: "Contact Prospero again, now. Ask about them. Otherwise ——Let’s get in touch first.”
There is no doubt that this will determine their next choice.
If a legion on the edge of the Sun Star Territory dares to use the betrayal of the Thousand Dust Sun as an excuse to defraud them, then no matter what the truth is, Prospero must have had some unexpected situation. , and this disaster will not be light.
Soon after, they received information that made the motionless Primarch's expression even more elusive. If another person who dared to look him directly could look directly into his eyes, then he might witness some fleeting emotions in Dorne's eyes. Something, but no one here could look at Dorn's serious face.
Prospero disappears.
An answer that was unexpected by everyone. It was difficult to understand, like a serious and absurd mistake made by an astropath. However, after several consecutive verifications, Dorn raised his hand and stopped it. They experiment more.
"Enough," he said, slowly lowering his hand, "enough. Prospero's campaign, if it ever existed, is now over. The Imperial Fists will continue to struggle with the Alpha Legion. Retreat. Our current location?"
"It is not far from the solar star field, and it is initially judged that it is near the Stenelus galaxy. The specific coordinates are still being calibrated."
"Can we contact the Warmaster?"
"We cannot determine the location of Lord Perturabo, Lord Dorne. We can only send astrology to Olympia, which will cause a certain delay."
"Do it now, inform Olympia: the Word Bearers have arrived on Terra, and the Imperial Fists have not succeeded in intercepting them; according to Alpha Legion sources, Prospero has been deemed a traitor and is currently missing. Is there anyone I can contact immediately?”
“Still looking, my lord”
The captain noticed that Dorn avoided asking questions about Terra, and some not-so-good associations emerged. In his mind, he quickly snuffed them out. At the same time, Rogal Dorn was using the frigate as a temporary command center. Messages were sent out one after another. More officers of all ranks began to perform their respective duties under the call of the supreme command. This represented a group of An orderly and forceful evacuation of the field.
"Tell Alpharius that I don't expect a fight to the death." Rogal Dorn took the time to add, clenching his fist as if recalling a distant close battle.
Several mortals immediately moved and broadcast the corresponding news around through the sound array to ensure that the Alpha Legion would know this information.
During this process, Rogal Dorn always stood in place, his eyes most of the time falling on the holographic screen where the picture became richer - more images that were cut off in the previous darkness The star language was falling in pieces, and only fragments of words were captured with difficulty by the best astropaths.
Indeed, many of the news here are related to the Sun of Thousand Dusts, "Pros..." "Wolf" "Ahriman" "...Warrior" "Sea" "Fire"... the noisy fragments silently Rolling across the screen like raindrops or melting snow. Even though it’s difficult to tell exactly what happened, it’s enough to generate a lot of speculation.
Sometimes Rogal Dorn was distracted looking at the three-dimensional war sandbox next to him, examining the new information and the Alpha Legion's response to his voice.
However, there were some moments when he looked further away than this. His lips were always pursed, and sometimes there was a trace of anger. Because the fleeting time was too short, that vague expression It seems to be equivalent to some kind of guilt or regret. However, more often than not, he just calmly added decisive instructions, existing silently in the middle of the busy crowd like an afterimage, as if his weight alone was enough to stabilize the existence of an entire fleet in this turbulent season. Maybe he can.
"My lord," a new message was called out. Rogal Dorn didn't look, but they all knew he was listening.
"We received the latest astrological message. It is not far away from us in space, but it happened about a week ago." The communications officer took a deep breath and said loudly, Dorn Turning his head sideways, his eyes finally turned to the person who spoke, obviously waiting for him to finish speaking.
“This is a message for help, originating from the Emperor’s Children, located in Medusa.”
——
When the light of the Star Torch lit up again in the extraordinary perception of the psychics, Perturabo raised his head as if he felt something.
In his dark porthole, he only saw his own shadow, and the silent and scattered stars outside the window, scattering one after another in the vast and endless darkness.
He knew that in the depths of this vast darkness, the once glorious Terra was like an evil beast devouring human destiny - a spider totem entrenched in the center of the network woven by the stars, turning it into Infinite influence covers the back of the universe... and in the field of vision that people can have, Terra is still sacred and bright, shining at the center and end of the world.
His best speed is as fast as possible. After all, he can't be sure at which moment the Dark Throne will use the Word Bearers as its mouthpiece to convict the Warmaster of his rebellion. Before that, he'd better do his best. It is possible to do more, such as returning to Olympia to gather the army, making sure that his star cluster will not betray the Iron Warriors immediately, and choosing the Throne World.
Oh, Olympia, now it seems that this is indeed a large and wealthy private land. A star cluster, a star cluster that could build a space fortress like the Cheolwon alone as early as 150 years ago...
Returning to Olympia is his first order, and the Iron-Blooded will be on the star Set sail the moment the torch lights up.
Then he must get in touch with as many legions as possible as quickly as possible.
The first is the Imperial Fist. Rogal Dorn cannot be allowed to be persuaded to go against him. Perturabo admitted with mixed feelings that Dorn may have many and various problems, but he will definitely be a qualified guardian of the throne-if he accepts that responsibility.
Secondly, the situation of the Fifteenth Legion may not be good, and he needs to find them.
He then preferred to contact Leon El'Jonson of the First Legion, followed by Ferrus Manus of the Tenth Legion...
Oh, and his forces in the Webway, How are they? Presumably when darkness fell, they were living under the throne world according to the regulations.
Perturabo blocked the further extension of the mind, and if they were still there, Constantine Valdor, who was trying to return to Terra through the webway, would undoubtedly bring him an answer.
At this moment, new news rushed through his mind through neural links, and the mechanical unit of the Iron Blood, like the internal organs, emitted the first heartbeat with the help of the pipeline transporting oil. of pulsation.
Peturabo glanced in Terra's direction.
Morse succeeded. He thought that even if he couldn't see the light, it was enough.
Besides...
The end of the prelude is not far away. And Perturabo raised the corners of his mouth silently, before he lost his expression.
——
"So you are really here..." Morse said, stepping into the light, squinting his eyes to follow the traces of the magic pattern.
Right in the center of the scattered and delicate spiritual light belt, a vaguely visible shape of a seat has taken shape. It was not a complex technological product like the Golden Throne. No, it was just a simple small back chair, which could barely support a thin and small body, sitting on the chair in pain, enduring in silence.
The young man wearing the laurel crown reluctantly turned his head and looked at Morse with the corner of his eye.
"You..." An almost non-existent breath sound, riding on the weak light like a needle, pierced uncontrollably.
"Humanity needs to thank you for not letting the star torch be completely extinguished." Morse walked to the opposite side of the young man, sat down on another chair, closed his eyes, and stiffly leaned half up and half against the wood. The top of the backrest of the chair, and after a moment, he exhaled. "Otherwise it will be difficult to light up again."
"It's like when we were playing chess in your room and talking about our revelations..."
Morse coughed and gradually adapted to the environment here. Feeling the surge of spiritual energy, he stopped talking.
And the light of the star torch finally brightened again, slowly.
(End of this chapter)