Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 496 Next Step

"It's their interference again," the captain said, his hands shaking from days of work resting on the edge of the data medallion socket, staring at the latest bright yellow information marked on the dashboard.

"Where do you want to take us this time?" said the admiral, "Ignore it."

"No, admiral, we should avoid the trap they left last time..."

"They are playing tricks on us, those Hydras," the admiral gritted his teeth and leaned forward, supporting the back of the chair, feeling his head buzzing with the fans of the surrounding Thinker array, "How do they travel through the warp?"

"Depending on the grace of those who can see in the dark." A voice came from the far end, and more than 30 mortals with different duties in the room stopped working and turned back to salute-except for those who had urgent work to deal with. They need to kneel when facing some primarchs, but this does not include Rogal Dorn in wartime.

The heavy steel door slid to both sides on the track. Amid the rumbling echo, a particularly tall giant and about five warriors wearing white robes with amber-yellow background entered the hall.

Even though none of them were wearing armor, their identities were obvious: five members of the Haskar Guard and the Primarch of the Imperial Fists, Rogal Dorn.

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 greetings.

"We are still at the edge of the Solar Segmentum, my lord," the captain barely calmed down and described the predicament they encountered. "From a technical point of view, we should be able to reach the Cerberus Fortress on Pluto, and we are also sailing at high speed to Terra, but in fact our position does not seem to be heading in the right direction."

Rogal Dorn was not surprised, and there was only a trace of contemplation like a glacial shadow on his face.

The calmness of the Primarch reminded the captain of Rogal Dorn's rare rage... The man in silver-green armor was smashed into the solid and indestructible wall of the ship, and the debris and broken steel were mixed with dust and blood... and then the messenger fell to the ground in a very embarrassing way, but still did not cause him permanent damage...

In this fleeting memory, the messenger of the 20th Legion was finally watched by Rogal Dorn as he returned to the depths of the galaxy, but the news he brought echoed for a long time within the Imperial Fists. That news even made the captain sigh silently at the excellent self-control ability of their Primarch: the Alpha Legion invited them to prepare and participate in the elimination of the traitor's home planet Prospero.

This caused an inevitable confusion and discussion within the fleet. Rogal Dorn ordered the fleet not to be disturbed by the Alpha Legion's unsourced words. However, in private, the captain could vaguely feel that Rogal Dorn seemed to know or guess a lot of things... that forced him to hide his emotions.

After that, the light of the Astronomican became dimmer. At first, the light was slightly brighter because they were getting closer to the solar system, and the navigators wearing strange headdresses were happy about it, but soon after the Alpha Legion's invitation arrived, they could hardly 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 troubles that followed and the interference of the Alpha Legion were difficult to get rid of...

It is not appropriate to say that it was the interference of the Alpha Legion. In fact, Rogal Dorn was the first to take action. After sending the messenger back, his first order was to prevent this snake-like legion from leaving their detection range and go to Prospero to reinforce the Shadow Moon Wolves who were carrying out their mission.

Soon, they launched a delaying and intercepting battle with the Alpha Legion at the edge of the Solar Segmentum. As warriors under the Emperor, the conflict between them was always kept at a civilized level at first, until Rogal Dorn asked a question and never waited for an answer.

"Is Hydra related to the theft of the Nemesis Blade?"

A simple and sharp question, as sharp as the beak of the eagle emblem on Rogal Dorn's armor, and even more dangerous. Such a question that 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.

From then on, both sides began to truly use thermal weapons that were enough to demonstrate the level of some of the Imperial military technology. The situation began to escalate from probing. If it continued to delay, sooner or later, the Phalanx would officially join the battle formation.

- Rogal Dorn noticed his distraction. His expressionless light-colored eyes swept across the captain's face sharply, then moved away: "Now the only thing we can do is to catch them out until we get an answer that must be clarified. I look forward to our next results."

There seemed to be some deep 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 Thinker had just received a new message, and his voice couldn't help shaking with joy.

Dorn's eyes turned quickly and paused slightly.

"Just now, the Astronomican has regained some brightness," the Admiral said quickly, the reflection of the hologram glowing in his eyes, "the navigator reported that this is enough for us to make certain coordinate references and conduct warp navigation under the premise of caution. The Astropath also suggested that they can make some limited contacts. We will not continue to be restricted by the dark blindness, my lord-"

Rogal Dorn interrupted him smoothly, his voice so steady that it seemed not an urgent interruption, but a powerful declaration: "Contact Prospero again, now. Ask about their situation. Otherwise-contact first."

No doubt, this will determine their next choice.

If a legion dares to use the betrayal of the Thousand Dust Sun as an excuse to deceive them on the edge of the Solar Segmentum, then no matter what the truth is, Prospero must have encountered some unexpected conditions, and this disaster will not be light.

Soon after, the message they received made the motionless Primarch's expression even more elusive. If there was another person who dared to look him in the eye, he might witness something fleeting in Dorn's eyes, but no one here could look at Dorn's serious face.

Prospero disappeared.

An answer that everyone did not expect, so incomprehensible that it seemed like a serious and absurd mistake made by an astropath, but after several consecutive verifications, Dorn raised his hand to stop them from doing more experiments.

"That's enough," he said, slowly lowering his hand. "That's enough. The Battle of Prospero, if it ever existed, is now over. The Imperial Fists will withdraw from the entanglement with the Alpha Legion. Where are we now?"

"Not far from the Solar Segmentum, preliminarily judged to be near the Sternulus System, the specific coordinates are still being calibrated."

"Can we contact the Warmaster?"

"We cannot determine the location of Lord Perturabo, Lord Dorn. We can only send the star language to Olympia, which will be delayed."

"Do it now, inform Olympia: The Word Bearers have arrived on Terra, and the Imperial Fists have not successfully intercepted them; according to the Alpha Legion's sources, Prospero has been identified as a traitor and is now missing. Is there anyone who can be contacted immediately?"

"Still looking, my lord."

The captain noticed that Dorn avoided the question about Terra, and some not-so-good associations appeared in his mind, and he quickly extinguished them.

At the same time, Rogal Dorn was using the frigate as a temporary command center. Messages were sent out one after another, and more officers of all ranks began to perform their duties under the call of the Supreme Order, which represented an orderly and tough evacuation.

"Tell Alpharius that I don't expect a deadly battle." Rogal Dorn took the time to add, clenched his fist, as if recalling a distant close-range battle.

Several mortals immediately moved and broadcast the corresponding message around through the sound array to ensure that the Alpha Legion would know this information.

During this process, Rogal Dorn always stood in place, and his eyes fell on the holographic screen with richer pictures most of the time - more star language that was interrupted in the previous darkness was falling in pieces, and only a few words were captured by the best star talkers with difficulty.

Indeed, many of the news here are related to the Thousand Dust Sun, "Pros..." "Wolf", "Ahriman", "... Warrior", "Sea", "Flame"... Noisy fragments silently rolled across the screen, like raindrops, like melting snow. Even if it is difficult to judge what happened specifically, it is enough to make people guess a lot.

Sometimes Rogal Dorn also distractedly looked at the three-dimensional war sand table next to him, examining the newly added information and the response of the Alpha Legion to his voice.

However, in some moments, he looked farther than this, his lips were always pursed, and sometimes a trace of anger flashed across his face. Because the flash was too short, the vague expression seemed to be equivalent to some kind of guilt or regret. However, more often, he just calmly supplemented the decision-making instructions, silently existing in the center of the busy crowd like a shadow, as if his weight itself 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 did not look at it, but they all knew that he was listening.

"We received the latest astropathic message. It is not far from us in space, but it happened about a week ago." The communications officer took a deep breath and said loudly. Dorn turned his head and finally turned his eyes to the person who spoke, obviously waiting for him to finish his words.

"This is a message for help. The source is from the Emperor's children. The location is Medusa."

——

When the light of the star torch lit up again in the extraordinary perception of the psykers, Perturabo raised his head as if he had sensed something.

In his dark porthole, he only saw his own shadow and the silent and scattered stars outside the window, which were scattered in the vast and endless darkness.

He knew that in the depths of this vast darkness, the once glorious Terra was like a beast that devoured the fate of mankind - a spider totem entrenched in the center of the web woven by the stars, covering its infinite influence on the back of the universe... and in the vision that people can have, Terra is still sacred and brilliant, shining in the center and end of the world.

He had better be as fast as possible, after all, he could not be sure at which moment the Dark Throne would use the Word Bearers as a mouthpiece to convict the Warmaster of rebellion. Before that, he had better do as much as possible, such as returning to Olympia to gather troops and ensure that his star cluster would not betray the Iron Warriors and choose the throne world as soon as possible.

Oh, Olympia, now it seems that this is indeed a large and rich private land. A star cluster, a star cluster that could build a space fortress like the Iron Wing alone as early as 150 years ago...

Returning to Olympia is his first order, and the Iron Blood will set sail at the moment the Astronomican is lit.

Afterwards, he must contact as many of the legion lists he has arranged as soon as possible.

First of all, the Imperial Fists, Rogal Dorn must not be persuaded to oppose him. Perturabo admitted with mixed feelings that Dorne might have many problems, but he would definitely be a qualified throne guardian - if he accepted such a duty.

Secondly, the situation of the 15th Legion might not be good, and he needs to find them.

Then, he tends to contact Lion El'Jonson of the 1st Legion, followed by Ferrus Manus of the 10th Legion...

Oh, and his troops in the webway, how are they? They must be living under the throne world according to regulations when darkness falls.

Perturabo blocked the further extension of his thoughts. If they are still there, Constantine Valdor, who is trying to return to Terra through the webway, will undoubtedly bring him a reply.

At this moment, new information rushed through his mind through the neural link, and the mechanical unit of the Iron Blood, like internal organs, issued the first heartbeat-like pulsation with the help of the pipeline that transports oil.

Perturabo glanced in the direction of Terra.

Morse succeeded. He thought, even if he couldn't see the beam of light, it was enough.

Besides...

The end of the prelude is not far away. And Perturabo silently raised the corner of his mouth before he lost his expression.

——

"So you are really here..." Morse said, stepping into the light, squinting his eyes to track the traces of the magic pattern.

In the center of the scattered and weak spiritual energy light band, a faint chair has taken shape. It is not a complex technological product that is as winding and huge as the golden throne. No, it is just a simple small backrest chair, barely supporting a thin and tiny body, sitting on the chair painfully, enduring in silence.

The young man wearing the laurel wreath reluctantly turned his head and looked at Morse with the corner of his eyes.

"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 go out completely," Morse walked to the opposite side of the young man, sat down on another chair, closed his eyes, and stiffly half-leaned and half-leaned on the top of the backrest of the wooden chair. After a moment, he exhaled. "Otherwise it will be difficult to light it up again."

"Just like when we were playing chess in your room and talking about our revelations..."

Morse coughed, gradually adapting to the environment here, feeling the surge of spiritual energy, he stopped talking.

And the light of the Star Torch finally, slowly, became brighter again.