Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 420 Visitors
As Hammer walked into the command room, the Iron Warrior's sergeant stood up, walked towards him, and patted him on the shoulder forcefully.

"Hammer, right?" he asked, with a grim smile. "I'm Sims."

"Yes, sir," Hammer replied, looking at the holographic hard light projection floating on the long table in the room. This strange optical projection provides a tangible entity, allowing a person to actually touch the projected object - of course, the force applied must be moderate.

In the projection, the ship they were currently on was sailing slowly through deep space. The armor plates damaged in the war had been replaced in the dock of the temporary base, but the new paint had not yet been completed.

Three hours ago, they captured a strange signal. Considering that they were currently on the outpost border of the ruins of the former Randan Empire, they could not be sure that it was the remnants of the Randan Empire that were being hunted. In any case, the moment they received the news, the stationed Iron Warriors sent out warships to track them.

Sims let go of Hammer and returned to his seat, staring intently at the image of the battleship slowly spinning in the center of the long table. "We haven't caught up with it yet," he said. "Would you like to sit down and talk?"

"What to talk about?" Hammer sat down.

"I don't know," the sergeant replied, "maybe Randan, maybe yourself. You are my adjutant now, although I personally think that based on your achievements, I should be your adjutant."

"Because of Ran Dan?"

"Yes, you participated in the last battle, and you survived." The sergeant turned his gaze to Hammer, "You are a veteran of Terran descent, and you have made great achievements in battle."

"That was several years ago. Besides, Iron Warriors come first in everything. That's what my instructor taught me." Hammer replied with a smile, "Reputation is not important, identity has no value, I only care about whether my duty is completed."

“Respectable,” Sims replied.

Hammer shrugged, stroking his unloaded gun with his fingers. Orpheus, he had given his gun a name. It was the only unnecessary thing he had ever done in his life that he could remember.

He had recently done a second superfluous thing—and he was surprised when he did it himself—but he had carved the names of the squad members who had fought alongside him into the lower edge of his shoulder armor, which went against his own preference for ordinariness and self-denial, and often stirred up a ripple in his calm.

"This is what I should do." The silent warrior said briefly, "The captain's communication request."

Sims approved the request over the intranet, and a new image appeared next to their own ship.

It was another unfamiliar Imperial ship, slightly smaller than the Iron Warriors' own standard cruisers, but still a warship rather than a merchant ship, and it was now turning around and approaching them along a long straight line.

Judging from the external decoration alone, they could not discern any marks or markings that could be used to infer the identity of the ship.

"No comm signal yet?" Sims asked.

The captain in the channel immediately responded: "No, sir."

"Perhaps we should prepare for battle," Sims said, his eyes lingering on Hammer, "It may not be our long-lost Randan defector."

"Don't open fire rashly. We can't confirm the specific situation inside this ship yet."

"You're right. Even though it's most likely being manipulated by a now insane renegade mortal, we should be cautious," Sims said.

After the smoke of the main battlefield of Randan had cleared, they had spent more than five years following the guidance of Lion El'Jonson and the occasional remote prompts from Perturabo, searching for the remaining alien enemies in the territory of the Randan Empire, which had now been designated as the "Extinction Realm", in an effort to completely wipe out Randan.

The lion seemed to have a passion and determination for this hunting mission that he himself did not even know where it came from.

Some people speculate that the First Primarch is using this good training opportunity to help the Caliban-born Dark Angels gradually gain a dominant position in the legion; others think that Lion El'Jonson simply harbors a strong hatred for the Randan aliens, which may be related to the fact that he was once trapped on the Randan alien base planet - his humiliation must be washed away in order to prove the honor of the First Army again.

Of course, when the warriors discussed privately, there was another argument that often emerged: Lion's hatred for Randan was due to some more personal and unimaginable reasons, and perhaps no one except a few primarchs knew the hidden truth.

"Hunting down traitors, slaying heretics. For every Randan xenos that deserves death, the Dark Angels will hunt them down until their destruction. In the name of Lion El'Jonson, the Dark Angels swear to the Imperium of Man."

In any case, this communication was broadcast three times in a row to the Imperial warship fleet throughout the Randan Realm.

The unusual but ordinary warship continued to approach without knowing what was good for it, and it was close to the Iron Warriors' shooting range. Of course, this did not mean that the Iron Warriors were also within the opponent's shooting range.

When it comes to long-range firepower, even the most humble and grim of Iron Warriors can't help but puff out their chests in admiration for the Gene-Father's creation.

"Prepare for battle," Sims ordered, picking up his helmet and preparing to put it on himself. Soon, a soft click sounded as the lock fell. In wartime, they were accustomed to this unchanging battle process.

Hammer slowed down his movements, but just before he put on his helmet, the captain sent new information, stopping their actions.

"The other party sent a reply." The captain said, "claiming their loyalty to the human empire and requesting further face-to-face video communication."

Sims stared at the floating projection image through his goggles. As the two sides approached, the outline of the ship became clearer. It was indeed full of the characteristics of the Empire. The bow ram was like a knife, and the entire hull was like a pistol, showing the aggressiveness of the human empire.

"Put it on," Sims said. "What's its name?"

"The Orpheus," the captain replied.

Hammer heard his teeth click for a second. He remembered something. Something that was deeply engraved in his mind.

Soon, an image appeared in front of the two.

The visitor who strayed into the military extermination zone was wearing gray Space Marine armor without a legion logo. It was only clear that the armor he wore was relatively new. In fact, it was probably a brand new set of armor that had just been taken out of the foundry and put on the Space Marine before it had experienced any damage.

"This is the Iron Warriors," Sims said in the standard Gothic tongue of the Empire. "You have entered a military extermination zone. Report your identity and disable your weapons systems, or the Iron Warriors will launch a bombing raid."

"The Orpheus is from the Empire. Iron Warriors, please do not open fire. We are friends and our purpose is to visit the respected Lord of the Dark Angels."

The Space Marine on the other side answered, his voice was vague, just like him, all characteristics were erased, without any extra emotions - except for a kind of seemingly mild arrogance that was most likely still a disguise. Ordinary, this was the only impression he gave to others.

"Tell us the name of your regiment, departure time, location, and your name, and we will start checking immediately."

"The departure time was six months ago, and the location was the deep-water port of Akinas Corner in the Kamas Arm. As for the name of the legion..." The Space Marine fell into thought, as if this was an extremely difficult question to answer.

Finally, he shrugged and gave his answer: "The 20th Legion does not have a name for the time being. As for me, I am Alpharius."

-

The Orpheus was traveling side by side with the Iron Warriors. It could be called a companion ship and a pilot, but considering the gun muzzles of the Iron Warriors' side guns were not closed, it was more like an escort. The Orpheus did not resist, perhaps because they knew that no one could survive the Iron Warriors' gunfire.

The man who called himself Alpharius personally boarded the Iron Warriors' ship and asked Hammer, who came to lead the way, to take him to the command room. After seeing the real person, Hammer realized how tall this warrior was - he was probably taller than most Space Marines, not to mention the Iron Warriors.

The two men advanced side by side, neither of them removing their weapons.

"The style here," Alpharius said, "is beyond my expectations."

Hammer glanced at the long corridor. They didn't do much decoration here. Everything was as plain as the shipyard in Olympia.

"The Iron Warriors retain the Olympian style features in the Agora Market and the Astartes' living areas, while other areas are used for combat and do not require decoration." Hammer explained, and the various names swirled on his tongue for a few times before being swallowed. "It is indeed the style of the Iron Warriors." Alpharius commented, lowering his head and noticing the words on Hammer's shoulder armor.

His tone became a little strange: "Is it the Iron Warriors' style to carve people's names on their shoulder armor?"

"No, this is my...personal choice," Hammer said.

"That is, you did something unusual."

"Yes." Hammer tried to rationalize his behavior, but some sudden, steely stubbornness stopped him.

"I did something of my own," he said, keeping his face calm. He was uneasy and couldn't understand the sudden pride in his heart.

Alpharius studied him, and then the 20th Legion warrior removed his helmet.

The face had clear contours, high brow bones, and obvious shadows, as if it had some regional racial characteristics close to the polar regions. A pair of cold blue-green eyes flashed with a sharp light, proving that he was always observing everything in the world around him and silently making his own personal evaluation and records.

"Very individual, warrior," Alpharius said, and then he suddenly laughed. "It's all right, it's not a mistake, it's just a testament to your fighting ability. I heard you're still a lieutenant, Hammer."

"Follow Lord Perturabo's orders."

"I mean, he's been very good to you." Alpharius smiled. "Be loyal to him, warrior. He is a very favored and excellent commander, after all."

"Of course," Hammer said. "Orpheus."

Alpharius patted his shoulder. "We must keep trying. Oh, it seems we are in luck - Lion El'Jonson wishes to see us in person."

"The First Primarch wishes to see you in person," Hammer added, relaying the notification coming over the comms channel, "and Lord Perturabo wishes to see me over the comms."

"But we must meet the Lion together, shall we not?" Alpharius said. "On the Indomitable Truth. The throne, the oldest Glorious Queen in service. This is the first time I have had the pleasure of aboard."

He paused, "It is there that we will announce our presence to the galaxy."

-

When the Stormbird entered the Dark Angels' flagship, Hou Gu Yin, under the order of the Lion, led two warriors out of the hangar and headed for the command center.

The Deathwing's directly elected lieutenant had some personal intuitive feelings about the two people beside him - it was strange, one of them was from the Iron Warriors and the other was from the nameless 20th Legion, but for no reason, he felt that there was some unique similarity between the two.

"I am Alpharius," Alpharius said, bowing to the shadowy figures of Lion El'Jonson and Perturabo. "The XXth Legion has decided to join the campaign against the Randan, and will assist in whatever needs to be done."

The Lion watched the two visitors, while Perturabo paid particular attention to his own Iron Warrior.

Perturabo seemed unsurprised by Hammer's presence. Of course, it was he who had requested that Hammer be summoned here.

"Alpharius," Leon chewed on the name, "meaning the first. But twenty... is the last."

"Indeed, my lord," Alpharius said easily, looking at ease under the gaze of his primarch, "You have learned the ancient Terran language well."

"And what about Orpheus?" Perturabo asked. "What does this code mean to you, Alpharius?"

"It is a mark of respect, Master Perturabo," Alpharius replied. "It is not flattery."

Perturabo snorted. "Rogal Dorn and Malcador have been too easy on you."

Alpharius smiled but said nothing.

"Your position, Alpharius," the Lion said.

"Only a Legionnaire," Alpharius answered, and even Hogwurn could see by now that he was not telling the truth.

Houguin had to conceal his surprise that someone had the guts to tell a lie that was known to everyone, right in the face of two Primarchs.

The lion was silent for a moment, then slowly spoke: "Has the 20th Legion not yet reunited with its Primarch...Hammer?"

He changed the subject and added the person he was asking the question to.

Hammer was startled, raised his head, and subconsciously looked at Perturabo.

The Iron Lord stared at him, no hint in that iron face.

"I think," the Fourth Primarch said solemnly, "telling the truth is the right choice, now that the 20th Legion has considered taking the stage. No one will blame you."

Hammer breathed slowly and nodded deeply: "The 20th Legion has reunited with the Primarch, my lord."

Alpharius seemed to sigh, unwilling to admit that even the existence of Perturabo made any concealment meaningless.

"Yes, my Lords. That's right, although - I don't think that's quite right," he had to say.

"Indeed. After all, the Primarch never left the XX Legion, did he?" Perturabo smiled. "You are a good soldier, Hammer."

As was his custom, Hammer nodded silently.

As Alpharius said, Perturabo was tolerant enough towards him - even if the reason he did this was probably just to keep the controllable variables in his hands, Hammer was still willing to accept it.

Then came a moment of anger from Alpharius, as if his secret had been ruthlessly exposed.

He reluctantly lowered his head: "Yes, adults."

The lion's eyes narrowed, and Hogwarts recognised that look, it meant Lion El'Jonson had seen through a clue that needed to be solved.

"It seems we have welcomed back the second-to-last Primarch to return," Lion said, his words suddenly becoming cold.

Alpharius seemed ready to finally admit that he was unhappy. Perturabo's presence had clearly disrupted all his plans - the Iron Lord had forced him to admit something to the Primarchs, even if Houguin was not sure what it was.

"No," he said stiffly, sounding almost angry, "The Twentieth Primarch is the last Primarch to return to the Great Crusade. Alpha will return at the time of Omega, the prophecy has not been destroyed, the plan has not been ruined."

"Oh?" Perturabo perked up. "I thought there was a vacant number among us?"

"The Eleven will never return," Alpharius replied. "Leman Russ has ensured this, by order of the Emperor."

(End of this chapter)