Warhammer: Black Emperor

Chapter 367 Termite Tunneling Machine Drilling the Ground

"Are you sure?" the Terran instructor asked seriously.

“I can,” Flamini said calmly, facing the gazes of the five instructors.

“I believe him,” said the Vostonic instructor who was looking him up and down in the cafeteria. “He predicted fifteen days ago that we would set foot on Juya today.”

"Moreover, his father highly values ​​his potential."

"If it weren't for his insistence, he would have been groomed as a think tank member; he has that kind of precognitive ability."

He smiled and asked Flamini, "How many Mitu people are there?"

“I don’t know, I didn’t see all of them, but from what I saw, there were more than ten thousand.”

“We can’t handle so many enemies. We should call for backup immediately.” The instructor’s smile vanished, and he said gravely.

"Instructor, they're underground. We can use bombs to collapse the tunnel and bury them all underground."

A cold glint flashed in Flamini's eyes. Although this wouldn't be considered taking revenge on the despicable aliens himself, he would still be thrilled if he could bury them as suggested.

“Good idea,” the Vostoyan instructor said, his eyes lighting up. “Although the tunnel has been excavated, it has not yet been reinforced.”

"Only a small amount of explosives is needed to collapse it."

He looked at the other instructors.

"can."

"It is indeed feasible."

Others agreed.

The Vostoyan instructor shouted:
"Your first lesson in Zhuya has begun, and this is also your first lesson in demolition."

"You must strictly follow our orders. Believe me, this concerns your life and the lives of others."

Under the guidance of their instructors, Flamini and his men removed various explosives, including molten metal bombs, from the transport plane and deployed them in the tunnels where he foresaw the impending attack of the Mitu.

They, who originally had no chance to participate in the battle, were full of motivation.

They all came from a planet ruled by the Metu people. Before their transformation was complete, each of them still retained relatively complete memories.

Everyone has family and friends who died at the hands of the aliens.

The miners were ordered to leave, and the instructors led the group to ambush behind the rocks.

Flamini held a scepter, his mind transcending his body, attempting to capture information about the Mitu people in the subspace.

As time ticked by, his brow furrowed more and more tightly.

Flamini was unable to foresee more information, which he knew was perfectly normal.

For these prophetic psychics, actively seeking information doesn't necessarily yield the desired results, yet they sometimes witness visions of the future when they don't actively pursue it.

However, he certainly didn't want it to be now.

Their forces were too weak; even though the instructors were all veterans qualified to be company commanders’ guards, they were not yet true shadows of order.

If a Mitu tribe were to reach the surface before they could discover them, it would cause them considerable losses.

Although Flamini longed for revenge against the Mitu, he did not want others to die because of his advice.

He looked down into the tunnel, his consciousness spreading as he used his psionic powers to probe.

Ten seconds later, Flamini still hadn't noticed.

[The Mitu are all pseudo-photochemical psionic beings, some of whom are even capable of evading psionic detection; I cannot sense them through psionic means.]
Flamini gripped his scepter, hesitating whether to ignore the warning from the think tank Ramsay, open his mind, and explore the warp.

He knew it was dangerous, but he was willing to try.

Just then, the instructors' cold, stern voices rang out simultaneously through the communication headsets.

"They're coming."

Flamini paused for a moment, then suddenly remembered.

[I forgot, the Shadow of Order inherited the keen senses of the Father of Genes.]
As he pondered, he saw the Vostonic instructor beside him press the detonator in his hand.

A deafening roar erupted, and the entire mountain shook violently.

Flamini's mind flashed through images: devastating molten lava flows, carrying rocks, crashing onto countless anemone-shaped creatures.

Success!
My suggestion worked!
As Flamini was filled with joy, the instructor's voice came through his communication headset.

"Flamini,..."

The instructor called out several names in a row, "You all come with me."

Flamini and the others immediately followed the instructor, who then spoke:
"The termite excavator can carry ten people."

“We’re going into the tunnel to give the Mitu a good beating.” Flamini excitedly followed the instructor and crawled into the termite excavator through the open door.

"Flamini, the incendiary assault gun is yours."

Upon hearing this, Flamini excitedly sat down at the control panel.

After the explosions subsided, the instructors issued the order to proceed.

Amidst a rumbling vibration, the massive drill bit of the termite excavator tore through the earth's surface and crashed into the underground tunnel.

Flamini locked onto the Mitu alien through the eyepiece of the control panel.

"Fire!"

As the instructor gave the order, Flamini unleashed a furious barrage of flames at the alien.

The bodies of more than a dozen alien anemones were torn apart by a barrage of bullets.

Dozens of Mitu people raised beams of light and shot them at the phase shield generator of the termite excavator, flashing with blinding light.

The termite excavator, beaming with light, charged into the aliens, its thermoelectric cutter hissing as it shredded them.

The termite excavator advanced relentlessly until the phase shield generator alarmed, at which point it finally emerged from the ground.

Flamini, soaking wet, stepped out of the cabin, thinking to himself.

[Eighty-six, I personally killed eighty-six Mitu people.]
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

In the 12th month of 844, while the technical sergeants and think tanks were studying the Jemenga Starry Sky Stele, Nimrod and Sanchez traveled to Attila.

In the Stormbird, Nimrod's gaze pierced through the viewing window as he looked toward the approaching planet.

Attila is smaller than Terra, and its entire world consists of only one continent, with the other half surrounded by oceans.

As the Stormbirds drew nearer to the surface, Nimrod saw the sea of ​​sand in the center of the continent, surrounded by vast grasslands.

The grasslands are dotted with rolling plains, towering mountains, rushing rivers, and deep inland seas.

The Attilaians spotted the black iron bird flying in the sky and roared as they rode their horses in pursuit.

The Primarch turned its gaze toward them with great interest, while simultaneously capturing the figures of thousands of Attilaians.

In the blink of an eye, the Primarch had categorized the Attilaians on horseback into those with the same physical characteristics.

The Attila were relatively short in stature, but had broad shoulders, long limbs, black eyes, and nut-like skin.

Their black hair, either combed into shiny braids or tangled up, and many of them with beards covering their chins, reminded Nimrod of the Chogris.

Nimrod also saw the distinctive scars on the faces of the Attila people, where, as part of a rite of passage, some would have long, deep, vertical cuts made on their cheeks and then rubbed with ashes.

“The Attila riders are elegant and swift; only the Eldar surpass them in both aspects.” Sanchez looked down, his mind flashing back to the Eldar he had encountered in Terry.

Ning Lu nodded slightly, his gaze fixed downwards.

The tribe that pursued them encountered another tribe, and the warlike Attila charged at each other simultaneously.

The horse offspring they brought from Terra, bursting at speeds exceeding those of armored vehicles, collided.

Ninglu knew that although the Attila's horses still retained the ancient Terran form, they were actually creatures modified by the environment and biochemical technology.

He knew that when the Military Affairs Department first took notice of the bio-beasts, they immediately recognized their value, and the level of attention and treatment they received even exceeded that of many low-ranking officers in the Star Forces.

Ironically, the Attila people were considered to be of the same low social status as the Euglins because they did not bathe or wash their clothes.

The Attila people considered bathing an insult to the soul of water.

As Ninglu pondered, the two tribes clashed, their three-and-a-half-meter-long hunting spears tucked under their arms colliding first.

In an instant, more than a dozen people from each side were pierced by the sharp spear tips.

The victor raises his spoils and roars with triumph.

They drew their short knives, chopped off heads, and the bodies rolled on the grass, staining the grass red with blood.

Those who won the spoils of war, amidst the envious gazes of others, would hang their heads on their horses, which would later be made into goblets as a symbol of their victory.

The two tribes passed each other, then simultaneously turned and attacked each other.

For thousands of years, they have fought like this, and the brutal battles have forged them into brave warriors.

Nimrod saw the spears in the hands of the two Attilaians clashing past each other, both avoiding the other's attack.

The two horses collided like two human chariots, their hooves kicking and their mouths tearing at each other.

"Both the people and the horses are good, but the weapons need to be improved so that they can serve as soldiers and set foot in the galaxy."

(End of this chapter)