Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

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 dashboard.

"Where are you taking us this time?" the Admiral said. "Ignore it."

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

"They're playing tricks on us, those Hydras," the Admiral gritted his teeth and leaned forward, supporting himself on the back of his chair, feeling his head humming along with the fans of the Cogito array around him, "How do they travel through the subspace?"

"By the grace of those who can see in the dark." A voice came from the far end, and more than thirty 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 needed to kneel in front of some primarchs, but this did not include Rogal Dorn who was at war.

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

Even though none of them wore armor, their identities were clear: five members of the Huskar Guard, and the Primarch of the Imperial Fists, Rogal Dorn.

Dorn's face was as grim as his voice, 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 Solar Segmentum, my lord." The captain managed to calm down and described the predicament they encountered. "From a technical point of view, we should be able to reach the Cerberus Fortress on Pluto. We are also sailing at high speed towards Terra, but in fact our position does not seem to be moving in the right direction."

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

The Primarch's calmness reminded the captain of Rogal Dorn's rare outburst before... 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 he let go, and the messenger fell to the ground in a very embarrassing way, but he still did not cause any permanent damage to him...

In this fleeting memory, the envoy 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 captains silently sigh at the excellent self-control of their Primarchs: the Alpha Legion invited them to jointly prepare and participate in the extermination of the traitor's home planet Prospero.

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

After that, the light of the Astronomican became dimmer and dimmer. At first, the light was slightly brighter as they got closer to the solar system, and the navigators wearing strange headdresses were delighted by this, but soon after the invitation from the Alpha Legion arrived, they could hardly see any guiding light.

The universe completely closed the door to navigation in front of them. The fear of facing 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 Alpha Legion's interference. 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 going to Prospero to reinforce the Luna Wolves who were carrying out their mission.

Soon, they launched a battle of delay and interception with the Alpha Legion on the edge of the Solar Segmentum. As warriors under the Emperor, the conflict between them was initially kept at a civilized level, until Rogal Dorn asked a question and never received an answer.

"Was Hydra involved in the theft of the Nemesis Blade?"

A simple, sharp question, as sharp as the beak of the eagle on Rogal Dorn's battleplate, and more dangerous. A question whose answer seemed obvious, but the Alpha Legion refused to answer... or, they gave up lying to 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 empire's military technology. The situation began to escalate from testing. If it continued to drag on, sooner or later, the Mountain Phalanx would officially join the battle formation.

——Rogal Dorn noticed his distraction. His expressionless light-colored eyes swept across the captain's face sharply, 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 deep meaning in his words, but the Primarch did not say a word more.

"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 but tremble with joy.

Dorn's eyes quickly turned away 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 carry out some limited communication work. We will not continue to be restricted by the darkness blindness, my lord-"

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

This will undoubtedly determine their next decision.

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

Soon after, the information they received made the motionless Primarch's expression even more unpredictable. 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 into Dorn's serious face.

Prospero disappears.

An answer that no one expected, 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 conducting any more experiments.

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

"Not far from the Solar System. Preliminary estimation is that it is near the Sternulus System. The exact coordinates are still being calibrated."

"Can we get in touch with the Warmaster?"

"We cannot determine Lord Perturabo's location, Lord Dorn. We can only send the Star Whisper to Olympia, which will cause some delay."

"Do it now. Inform Olympia: The Word Bearers have arrived on Terra, and the Imperial Fists have failed to intercept them. According to Alpha Legion sources, Prospero has been deemed a traitor and is now missing. Is there anyone we can contact immediately?"

"Still searching, my Lord."

The captain noticed that Dorn avoided asking Terra questions, and some not-so-good associations popped up in his mind, but he quickly extinguished them. At the same time, Rogal Dorn was using the frigate as a temporary command center, sending out messages 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 I do not expect a fatal battle," Rogal Dorn added, clenching his fist as if recalling some distant close combat.

Several mortals immediately took action and broadcast the corresponding message in the surrounding area through the sound array to ensure that the Alpha Legion would be informed of this information.

During this process, Rog Dorn remained standing still, his eyes mostly fixed on the holographic screen with richer images - more astropathic messages that had been cut off in the previous darkness were falling in fragments, and only a few words were captured with difficulty by the best astropaths.

Indeed, much of the news here is 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 speculate.

Sometimes Rogal Dorn would distract himself by looking at the three-dimensional war sand table next to him, examining the new information and the Alpha Legion's response to his voice.

However, there were moments when he looked further away. 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 residual shadow, as if his weight alone was enough to stabilize the existence of an entire fleet in this turbulent season. Maybe he could.

"My Lord," a new message was called out, and Rogal Dorn did not look, but they all knew he was listening.

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

"This is a request for help from the Emperor's Children, located in Medusa."

-

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

In his pitch-black porthole, he could only see his own shadow and the silent and scattered stars outside the window, spreading out in the vast and endless darkness.

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

He had better move as quickly as possible. After all, he couldn't be sure at which moment the Dark Throne would use the Word Bearers as an excuse to convict the Warmaster of rebellion. Before that, he had better do as much as possible, such as returning to Olympia to gather the army and ensure that his 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 have built a space fortress like the Iron Won on its own 150 years ago...

His first order was to return to Olympia, and the Iron Blood would set sail the moment the Astronomican was lit.

He must then make contact with as many of the legion lists he has compiled as quickly as possible.

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

Secondly, the condition of the Fifteenth Legion might not be good, and he needed to find them.

Next, he was inclined to contact Lion El'Jonson of the First Legion, and then Ferrus Manus of the Tenth Legion...

Oh, and his troops in the Webway, what happened to them? They must have been living under the throne world as ordered when the darkness fell.

Perturabo blocked further extension of the thought. If they were still there, Constantine Valdor, who was trying to return to Terra via the Webway, would undoubtedly bring him an answer.

At this moment, new information rushed through his mind through the neural links, and the Iron Blood's mechanical units, like internal organs, emitted their first heartbeat-like pulsation with the assistance of the pipelines that transported oil.

Perturabo glanced in Terra's direction.

Morse succeeded. Even if he couldn't see the light, he thought, it was enough.

Other than that…

The prelude was not far from over. Perturabo raised the corner of his mouth silently before he lost his expression.

-

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

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

The young man wearing the laurel wreath reluctantly turned his head and glanced at Morse out of the corner of his eye.

"You..." An almost non-existent voice, with a weak light like a needle, pierced uncontrollably.

"Humanity needs to thank you for not letting the Astronomican go out completely," Morse walked to the opposite side of the young man, sat down on another chair, closed his eyes, and leaned stiffly on the top of the wooden chair. After a moment, he exhaled. "Otherwise it would 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, and he stopped talking.

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

(End of this chapter)