Chapter 380 Emergency Repair (Part 1)
Dietrian's built-in processor recalled Kalad's facial appearance, service records, and every modification to his armor in the past three hundred years in a heartbeat. .
"Thank you very much. Your information is very useful to improve the battle situation, so where is the Talos of the First Claw?"
"The First Claw is fending off the enemy in Hall 1. Why? "
"I have discovered and analyzed the flaws in the void shield function. I now need the captain's order and the guards, come-"
Kalad's voice link suddenly collapsed, and then the sound dispersed in a burst of intense howling, and then there was another sound of a heavy object falling.
Dietrian's head tightened and he realized that something was wrong.
"Kalad? Kalad of the Sixth Talon?"
Soon, another voice took over.
"This is the Falowen of the Sixth Claw, we are retreating from the landing port! Anyone in the stern area who is still breathing, assemble with us in the New Black Market."
"The person who just spoke to me is——"
"For the sake of the gods, please shut up, Bishop! The Sixth Claw is retreating, Kalad and Yetus have fallen .”
Another voice responded intermittently.
"Farovan, this is Xia Kurus, double check whether Kalad has fallen."
"I saw it with my own eyes, these screaming alien bitches put His head was chopped off."
Dietrian listened to the conversation of the legionnaires during the defense, and Dietrian finally decided to solve the problem personally.
He made his way through the cluttered deck through a hidden maintenance tunnel and reached the third damaged engine tower.
This one is nearly five hundred meters away from the first one. It is like a pile of molten metal fragments, with the cracked fragments almost poking into the burnt shell of the ship.
Due to the impact of the enemy's landing equipment, the shell of the ship underfoot was more like a melted steel desert.
For the first time in decades, Dietrian felt something like despair. This emotion was too strong and abrupt. Back when he was an ordinary Mechanicus priest, this emotion might have Only from his defective organs.
"Lacuna Absolutus."
He began to contact his assistant.
"My lord?"
"Bring the last group of servitors to the last damaged spire. I will handle this myself."
Lakuna Abu Soltus stood beside his master, his own red hood shaking in the vacuum of the void, his face wearing an ancient Terra-type chrome visor, expressionless, making it impossible to judge his thoughts.
His voice seemed to come from a coin-sized sound piece sewn into his throat.
"Understood, but how do you deal with this, my lord?"
Dietrian smiled, because he always laughs, and his role in this incident made him unable to Other options.
"You heard your mission, let's go."
Suddenly, he shuddered when he received the message from the cabin.
"No!"
The Mechanical Bishop finally lost control of his emotions and roared loudly.
“These damn alien bastards!”
“Sir?”
“Damn it! The engine has stopped.
"Sir, there is also a void shield——"
A new voice came from the channel linked to him,
"——It is fading."
In Di While Trian was in a state of distress, the lower deck became even more unsettled.
Lukovus of the Weeping Eye does not confine himself to the deck like his hunting pack.
Although he can't run like he once did, his movements are now more agile and amazing, completely like a four-legged wild race. His hands and feet tapped the deck grating in an animalistic rhythm, like an ape or a wolf, a warrior who had not resembled a human for many years - but he had never thanked the empire for its genetic modification, and Later subspace upgrades.
Most of the Eighth Legion's warriors believed that Lukovus probably had the strongest will to live among his brothers, refusing to die for their cause or To hold his ground in a hopeless battle, not to mention that he was not suited to fighting in the open.
He doesn't intend to die yet, so let his brothers embrace this senseless madness, and he enjoys his life with a very rational principle-even though it is twisted.
So when he ran away from the battlefield, he had no shame.
Out of his urgent need for self-preservation, the thrusters on his back emitted a thin stream of cold smoke.
The thrusters rumbled and erupted into flames very efficiently, pushing him into the air.
Now he only needs a jump space to ambush on the dying Cursed Echo. This is not a very loyal intention.
In the message, First Talon was still scolding the raptors for their retreat.
“Let them complain.”
Vorasha chuckled, his laughter degenerating into a contemptuous hiss.
The two of them clung to the ceiling when they escaped. The others had been reduced to the last in the past few months. The remaining survivors of the most tenacious and ferocious Eyes of Weeping Blood were clinging to the walls and Run a path through the gate.
The ship trembled again, and Lukovus had to attach his limbs to a piece of metal to prevent himself from being thrown off.
“No.”
Suddenly, he stopped.
"Wait a minute."
The Eyes of Weeping Blood paused simultaneously, and the hunting group silently hung upside down beside the leader: a short meeting began in a three-dimensional space.
Volasha tilted his helmet, looking like a bird, with two lines of tears spray-painted on each of their demonic masks.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
"You go."
Lukovus gave his order with an excited scream.
"Retreat to Hall 2 and reinforce the Fourth Claw."
Their muscles tightened with the instinct to obey orders.
"What about you?"
Volasha asked back, but his leader only responded with a wordless howl like a carrion crow, and then he turned to him. The way they came.
The Weeping Eyes eyed each other as their leader bounded into the hallway, racing along the ceiling.
Instinct drives them - the hunting pack either hunts side by side or does nothing.
“Let’s go!”
Lukovus urged them on the channel.
In silent silence, they reluctantly obeyed.
"Do it, do it!"
Dietrian has never run himself at such a high speed, even if it is still hindered by the slow logic algorithm in his body.
He has deployed four assist arms, activating and letting them stretch from his back.
These are replicas of his arms, each gripping square chunks of data and integrating them into protective chain-like shapes.
The Mechanical Bishop cannot trust the speed and accuracy of the servitors at this moment, and the task of driving them to more effectively assist the maintenance here falls on Dietrian himself.
The four slaves responded to the slightest movement of the data controller in his hand, their every twitch and breath driven by his will.
In a morbid twitch common to lobotomists, the servitors lifted the main beam into place and sealed it with welding rods, then worked to rebuild the destroyed outer power spire.
(End of this chapter)