40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 630 13. Sovet’s Past (V, Two Courts, Part Two)

"It's been a long time, Your Excellency," Trazin said dryly.

Khalil nodded to him: "Indeed."

The conversation between them was short and calm, like two old acquaintances who had not seen each other for many years and suddenly bumped into each other on the streets of a strange city one day. They both had something to say, but both chose not to say it because they both had things to do.

And Orrican was confused by this.

Very confused.

His single eye was fixed on the male human, who single-handedly slaughtered Trazin's guards and technicians in the past three seconds, which mediocre people could not even perceive. Almost exhausted.

Their bodies now lay scattered at his feet like worthless trash.

Orican did think that his compatriots were not outstandingly talented, but they were Necron after all - and they were fragile in the hands of those who should be weak flesh and blood.

A word suddenly appeared in Orikan's mind: glass.

This is a human description, a human vocabulary, born out of what they call language.

Orikan remembered what it should be called—High Gothic, a language that was long, complex, and not very creative. It is as ridiculous as the so-called long history that the human race has always boasted about itself.

There are better expressions in the language spoken by the Necrons, varying in length, vulgar and beautiful, some sounding like ballads, others sonorous like the roar of war drums.

For an eternal race, they need every pastime to pass the time, and playing with language is certainly one of them. In fact, if Orikan's vocal machine had not been destroyed by Trazin, he would probably be singing by now.

Five nanoseconds after the birth of this idea, Orikan's neural pathways revealed a terrible truth to him: he was crazy, that's why he had this ridiculous and unrealistic idea.

He is not a jester, so why would he sing at this time to tease himself and entertain others?

but why? the astrologer asked himself, confused. Why do I get this kind of runtime error?

If Trazin could have known these thoughts of his friend, he would have jumped up with great joy, fooled Orikan and laughed at him loudly in the true jester and jester fashion.

When Orikan can't stand it anymore, Trazin may tell him the truth. Unfortunately, he can't do this. He has no way of knowing what the astrologer is thinking, and he can't behave like this in such a situation. As usual, he doesn't care about anything.

Orikan's problems are not unique.

Program error. Trazin felt a real smile at that tiny question.

Yes, real smiles, real emotions.

It was different from the smile he pretended to show when he got a new collection, different from the ridicule when he saw Orican getting angry, and different from any smile he had since becoming a Necron.

His neural pathways can imitate those paradoxical emotions based on old memories, living metal can make a twisted smile appear on his iron face, and the sound machine can make him laugh sincerely - it's almost like He is still alive.

But what is gone is gone.

Trazyn the Librarian died after being pulled into the Crucible by his compatriots, and Trazyn the Endless is nothing more than a twisted phantom that carries his personality and memories.

Nothing he did in Trazin's name mattered anymore, whether it was merit or trivial quarrels. Trazyn is dead, Trazyn lives on forever, and Trazyn will live forever to mock Trazyn and the Necrontyr.

But now he actually has some emotions.

Is it an illusion? Another runtime error, again—

"——The Endless One." The instigator called softly, interrupting his thoughts.

Trazin reconnected the vision sensor and regained the light, and the running error had disappeared. He could not even save it, so he watched this precious error being buried.

It's a mistake, that's true. But it is also a gem, surrounded by the endless sands of emptiness.

Now it has disappeared, flowing into the yellow sand.

That’s all.

Trazin gave a humble smile and tried to lighten the mood, but the person he was trying to please just calmly raised his right hand to indicate that he didn't have to.

"Abandon these red tapes and unnecessary pretense, Trazin. I did not actually kill these subordinates of yours, and your rebirth agreement remains in effect."

Trazin nodded silently, slightly.

He fully understood what the other person was saying and what was hidden behind these words.

But he doesn't think this is a good thing, because it means that Khalil Lohars no longer intends to communicate with him in normal ways - maybe because he has lost all respect for me?

Well, I deserve this. The Infinite thought. I just bombarded their ship.

"I'm sorry," Trazin said. "I didn't expect that this meeting would turn out like this, Your Excellency. Although this matter may sound a little unbelievable, please believe that the attack was not by me."

"Does it make a difference?" Khalil asked.

"There may be no difference at the official and political level, but we don't seem to be in an official setting now and talking to each other using our political identities."

Tarasim shrugged cautiously but humorously.

"Unless you firmly believe that this unnamed cruiser that does not belong to any dynasty of the Necrons is under my command."

"Doesn't it belong to you?"

"I was fully prepared before I came." Trasim answered seriously and raised a finger. "I erased its identity files, production place and all maintenance reports in the past forty centuries - of course, I did it without telling the technicians."

"Although I don't think they can report to the parliament without my knowledge, you have to be on guard, what do you think, sir?"

Khalil folded his hands and asked again: "So, how to solve the problem of firing?"

"The ship's gun is overloaded, the program is wrong -" Trasim said, while raising a second finger. "--Or a shameful betrayal, a technician was turned into a spy by one of my enemies, and he was deliberately planning to frame me when I was traveling."

"Would you travel on a ship without files?"

"The overlord of the Solomus Dynasty, Trazyn, would not, but the collector Trazyn would." The Necrons chuckled a few times and raised the third finger. "I should be well-known in institutions such as the Inquisition, Your Excellency. They will believe this."

Khalil raised his eyebrows and tilted his head: "So."

He prolonged his voice.

"So?" Trazyn continued.

"Are you asking me to collude with you?"

Tarasim took a step back in a pretentious manner, bowed with standard human etiquette, then raised his head and grinned: "I have no such intention, your honor-how did you use the pipe last time?"

"To be honest, I haven't used it once. I don't smoke, Tarasim."

"Perhaps you can give it to someone else. It already belongs to you, Your Excellency." Tarasim said in a flat tone. "You can do whatever you want with it."

Khalil didn't respond to the dead spirit's words. Tarasim's reaction was very strange. Those seemingly humorous words were full of emptiness that came from nowhere.

The Endless may know many secrets of the galaxy and can easily take out the crystallization of a civilization, but he doesn't know how to hide his true emotions.

Khalil didn't go deeper into this issue, but just raised his hand and made a gesture. The green light emitted by the console was still flashing, but the multiple runes on it suddenly buzzed.

This means they have been activated. Then, with a crackling sound and a flash of green light, two Astartes in black armor stood on the empty bridge.

Despite this, they did not move, but remained completely still, not even breathing.

Khalil approached them and looked at them carefully. Trazyn followed him in time and did his job.

"I found them on the Banjo-4, sir. However, as you can see, they have erased all the logos on their armor, even the most basic emblems such as the Skyhawk logo have been scraped off. Therefore, I think they are the fallen angels in the rumors."

"Rumors?" Khalil chuckled without looking back. "You are very careful with your words, Trazyn, but I don't believe this is the first time you have seen a fallen angel."

"Isn't this the point, sir?"

"Then what is?"

"The point is--" Trazyn raised his voice. "——These two fallen angels are about to end their escape!"

"What? Are you going to use your official identity? The Overlord of the Necrons Solomus Dynasty, the Infinite Trazyn, wants to hand over two Astartes to the Human Empire? If so, I'm afraid I have to ask the Primarch Lion El'Jonson for instructions, and then he will meet with you to discuss the details."

Tarazyn was silent for a while, and spit out a number: "One hundred and twenty-eight."

Khalil finally smiled happily: "Really?"

Tarazyn sighed.

"It is very difficult to capture the Fallen Angels, sir. It is completely different from taking away one or two dying Space Marines on the battlefield. The first problem I have to face is their over-vigilance."

"You don't know, but these people have been forced to evolve an instinct that I can't understand due to the long-term pursuit. Any slight disturbance can make their tense nerves twitch suddenly, and then they will disguise and escape without stopping."

"And I am not the only one in the galaxy who is interested in them. In other words, if I take a fancy to one or more Fallen Angels, I have to turn around and deal with the Dark Lords who are chasing them. Angels, and then we can turn around and deal with them. "

"At this time, they have often escaped. It is true that there are some people among them who have lost the desire to fight and spend the rest of their lives in a remote place, and some even cultivate the fields, but I have to say that even for such people, it is not easy to take them away. "

Khalil nodded thoughtfully: "You are very professional. When can they arrive in the Banjo system?"

Tarasim raised his head uninterested, with green light flashing in his eyes. He answered in a tone that would be familiar to philosophers: "At the latest, after forty-six Terra hours."

"Thank you." Khalil said. "Then let's talk about the last thing now?"

Tarasim was silent for a moment, and suddenly shook his head: "I don't think this is necessary, sir. No matter from which point of view, this meeting-"

A harsh electronic synthesized voice interrupted him.

"-Tarasim! "

The Endless looked down and saw a tall shadow struggling to stand up among the wreckage of technicians and guards. It was his old friend Orikan.

But compared to the past, the Astrologer now looked much more embarrassed. His limbs were taken from the remains of the guards, and they did not match his specialized body.

Although the living metal followed the agreement and repaired the damaged parts of his body, the differences between the neural pathways could not be simply violently requisitioned by his high authority.

At this moment, the Astrologer walked with a limp, like a faulty servitor with a program error.

Tarasim almost laughed out loud - did I call him a servitor just now? Oh, the dead god.

"You!" Orikan roared at him angrily. "Explain it to me!"

"Explain what?" Trasim asked back, while moving his feet and standing behind Khalil. He put his hands behind his back and tilted his head to Orikan very elegantly.

"What do you want me to explain, old friend?" Trazyn said, suddenly making a look of sudden enlightenment. "Ah, your prophecy. You mean to say that all this is different from what you saw in the prophecy, right?"

"Fuck your prophecy!" Orikan roared with a heavy breath.

Before Trazyn had time to be surprised by his old friend's vulgarity, he found that the astrologer had sent a long string of complex and difficult codes with difficulty. He quickly deciphered it, but unlike what he thought, this string of codes was not any curse.

It was actually just a link invitation, an invitation that could directly connect Trazyn to Orikan's mind.

The expression on Trazyn's long metal face suddenly became serious. He lowered his head and patted Khalil's shoulder, whispered an apology to the latter who watched the show silently, and then strode away from behind him and came to the front of Orikan, who had become very tall.

The Endless looked up, staring into his old friend's glowing green eyes, and suddenly asked, "Are you serious?"

"Hurry up!" Orikan urged angrily.

Trazyn wordlessly activated the temporarily programmed link and entered Orikan's mind.

This place was not much different from his own and the many Necrons he had entered and replaced. The same nothingness, the same boredom, but Trazyn found something wrong at the first time.

An extra data redundancy, a program error that Orikan was trying his best to protect.

It was stuck between Orikan's personality and way of thinking. The self-instinct and self-protection mechanism of the astrologer wanted to clear it out, but his own reason, or rather, his mind unit, firmly stopped it.

The astrologer held it tightly in his hand.

Trazyn was stunned. He didn't expect to see such a scene. He was surprised, there is no doubt about that, and part of his surprise even came directly from seeing Orikan's persistence at this moment.

The astrologer did what he could not do. Admittedly, Trazyn could use the saying that everyone has his own specialty to win back a point. After all, Orikan is an astrologer, and his control over his "soul" must be better than Trazyn.

However, this cannot explain the whole thing.

Because this data redundancy is slowly destroying Orikan's mental unit. It was just a program error at first, which will be repaired as the program runs automatically.

If it were in the past, Orikan would not even be aware of the existence of this thing. But it is an error after all, and the price to pay for keeping it is amazing.

For the undead, this is a huge and slow destruction. The longer this error is preserved, the more painful this destruction will be.

It's like jumping into magma with flesh and blood. Trazyn thought.

He silently and carefully touched a part of Orikan's mental unit, which was still intact.

The words of the astrologer followed closely and rushed into the fragile link, roaring violently, all thoughts were mixed together, leaving no room for breathing, and one question after another almost drowned Trazyn.

+ Tell me what all this is about Why can he do this? How did my emotions come about? My prophecy did not foresee this scene. Shouldn't he be a hateful evil god? Why can he do this? Tell me the answer, Trazyn! +

+ I don't know either.+

Through the transmission protocol, Trazyn packaged this sentence and sent it. More questions came in, some questioning and pleading, some crazy curses and an emotion that had never appeared in Orikan, which could almost be called crying.

Emotion.

Emotion?

Trazyn looked at the data redundancy. The abominable error had devoured nearly 2% of Orikan's mental units. This was a terrible number, and its efficiency would be further improved.

However, if only 2% was enough to cause Orikan to have such a huge emotional fluctuation, then what would happen when it went further?

Trazyn exited the link and turned to look at Caryl Rohals.

As if by coincidence, the latter raised his head almost at the same time and met Trazyn's gaze. There was nothing in his dark eyes, like a mirror, reflecting Trazyn's own appearance.

His superior visual sensor unit allowed him to clearly see every particle in the air, and it was even easier for him to capture his own expression through reflection.

But he actually has no eyes at all, and this is not true sight. It is just a ridiculous imitation of the flesh and blood of the Necromancers using technology.

Just like his expression, it is all fake.

Orikan made unconscious electronic noises behind him, and Trazyn could really capture the pain in it.

This is the real thing. Even if it is painful, it is far better than his exaggerated hypocrisy.

"Is our last agreement still valid, sir?" Trazyn asked softly.

"Of course." Khalil nodded.

"I want to change it - I want to change my identity during the meeting, from collector, archaeologist and naturalist Trazyn to the overlord of the Sollem Dynasty, the Infinite Trazyn, what do you think?"

Khalil smiled slightly.

"Forty-six Terra hours later," he said, his voice low, waves of dark waves appeared in the shadow, and an unspeakable chill began to spread. "The gods will be waiting for you here."