Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 206 The War of the Internet (15) Bloodstained Gamor (Part 2)

948.M41, Throne Star Court All-Galaxy Broadcast: The Emperor's fifth son, the Genetic Primitive Chagatai Khan, has been confirmed to have returned.

The broadcast flowed across the Starfire's bridge communication panel—a psionic signal relayed via the Garros Webport psionic relay.

The cold white light flickered for a few seconds before sinking into the dark green halo of standby mode. Cohen stood at his observation post beside the Mechanical Throne, offering no expression in response to the broadcast. He and his fleet had known about it all before the Astronomical Court's broadcast and were currently fighting alongside the Primarch.

As Cohen passed through the Starfire's connecting passage, the ship's main propulsion system had just completed a power surge. Low-frequency vibrations traveled from his feet, up the terrazzo floor, through his greaves, knees, and spine, forming a continuous low-frequency hum within his skull.

On the walls lining the passageway, deep red emergency lights flickered alternately in the dim, cold light. The technical priests, each at their post, stared at their data panels, not looking up. A transport machine passed by, its six legs tapping out a faint rhythm on the metal grille; a set of adamantite restraints was fixed to its hydraulic arm—a backup locking module for the Titan weapon platform.

Cohen paused in front of the airtight door on the bridge. A small Thinker terminal was embedded in the side wall of the door frame, with a line of binary confirmation pulses scrolling along the edge of the screen.

The airtight door slid open.

The Starfire's bridge was a head taller than the Black Pearl's, its domed surface spreading out in the cool white light, while the data screens on the walls refreshed the battlefield situation map at a fixed rhythm. Behind the central command console, Starfire's captain, Van Frick, sat on a mechanical throne, countless data cables connected to his head, monitoring the ship's movements in real time and sending and receiving various information; the lights on the data cables flickered. The massive bridge was devoid of any other visible living beings, only the entry and exit of various types of mechs and the armed guards. The countless monitoring screens on the bridge displayed various information: the status of the various Titan hangars, real-time images from the deck passageways, and even more external images and various sensor spectrum curves.

Cohen stepped inside, Van Fricker not turning back. The bridge sensor array had already detected the newcomer's biometrics. His synthesized voice vibrated in the skull's resonant cavity, his voice carrying the metallic quality of the Mechanicus: "Your Excellency, please wait thirty seconds. The Starfire is undergoing a full-ship energy system synchronization calibration. The plasma macro-cannon array has begun preheating, and the energy distribution protocol of the point defense array is undergoing deep reconfiguration."

Cohen sat down in the auxiliary observation post next to the mechanical throne. On the main display screen in front of the bridge, the outline of Gamor was gradually unfolding in the cold psionic light—the edge of the city was no longer an illusory halo; the optical array projected the burning spirit bone spires in the far distance with clear precision. Those burning spires appeared an eerie dark orange in the cold psionic light, like a slowly melting metal mountain range.

The ship shuddered slightly, and a flash of light from an explosion illuminated the edge of the main display screen, lasting less than two seconds before being swallowed by the cold light of psionic energy. Van Frick's fingers traced a thin, bright line across the panel in front of the throne, the optical probes at the tips of his mechanical knuckles leaving a long, thin trail. His head was mostly replaced by adamantite castings, with only the bridge of his nose and upper lip retaining biological structures. His mechanical body was integrated with the throne's energy conduits and data cables. Compared to the Fireseed, this Starfire was a highly integrated expeditionary forging ark, with far greater automation; the captain himself was practically an extension of the ship.

Most of his mechanical structure and the throne formed a symbiotic relationship, and in the dim light, the outline of the throne and Van Frick's mechanical body were almost indistinguishable.

With the emergency resolved, the data cables detached one by one from Van Flick's spinal connector with a soft hissing sound. He stood up, the mechanical joints synchronizing as he rose with a short servo hum. He gave a full gear-like salute towards Cohen before returning to his throne. A third of the data cables automatically reconnected to the connector—keeping only the links necessary for basic tactical awareness; the rest remained in standby mode.

"Starfire is operating normally and is advancing with the fleet, awaiting the Titan delivery window." The same dull, mechanical voice continued, "Data shows that Gamor's main fleet has not yet collapsed; annihilating them will take time. But once our fleet completely suppresses them, the delivery window will open. Edric will proceed in sync with us."

Cohen's gaze returned to the main display screen. The spires of Gamor continued to burn in the cold, psionic light, being analyzed layer by layer into operational markers on the bridge's tactical panel—the brightness of each cluster of lights slowly waning, some already fading out. Van Flick's data cables didn't increase further; a third of the links was sufficient for him to maintain the Starfire's attitude and fire coordination within the current propulsion sequence.

"How well do those data craftsmen know about Starfortress mechs?" Cohen asked.

Van Frick walked to the edge of the command console, swiped his finger across the control panel twice, and brought up the deployment sequence progress bar. "Oleg has reported that the 5,000 Starfortress mechs on the Starfire coordinating with the Titan landing are all coordinated." He turned, his gray mechanical eye locking onto Cohen's direction. "Director, I have to say, these data craftsmen were still apprentices three months ago; they've been promoted far too quickly. And the Fireseed also has a group of elite data craftsmen from Lucis, who experienced the Armageddon War. Why not assign some to us?"

Cohen didn't turn his head; the light remained fixed on the burning spires on the main display screen. "These Starfortress mechs have stable machine souls; the data craftsmen only need initial guidance."

Van Flick was silent for a moment. His fingers hovered over the edge of the control panel, not sliding down. That memory surfaced from the depths of his consciousness—at the port of Garros, he had witnessed firsthand those mechs, without any command, walk from the Black Pearl's hangar into the warehouse, shut down their machines, and line up in neat rows.

He understood.

Elite data craftsmen are unnecessary, as their role is merely a backup plan for the mechs when no one is in command. If the Director personally intervenes in combat, these mechs will not require any intervention at all. Even without the Director's personal intervention, apprentice-level guidance can ensure that the mechs maintain their basic combat capabilities while simultaneously achieving rapid improvement.

Van Flick's finger started sliding again, putting the progress bar for the delivery sequence into standby mode, without asking any further questions.

The communications panel lit up. Eleanor's voice, with its characteristic husky resonance from psionic transmission, came through the bridge: "Commander, we have received an encrypted notification—from the Alien Inquisition fleet, sent from the ship marked 'Obsidian Eye'."

She paused for half a second, as if confirming the completeness of the decoding: "The report states: Three alien Inquisition ships have entered from the western channel surrounding Gamor and are infiltrating the city. The report also states that there is a long-established intelligence network and communication channels within Gamor, composed of informants who have been lurking in the slave system and the lower-level trading network for over decades. These informants are activating dormant communication nodes and establishing communication links."

Cohen remained silent. On the communication panel, another decoding pulse was waiting for connection.

Eleanor continued: "Further details in the report: There is a large number of captured human slaves within the Gamor, initially estimated to be between several billion and tens of billions. The infiltrators are assessing the possibility of organizing a rebellion, but its feasibility has not yet been confirmed. They have requested permission to continue the infiltration operation. However, judging from the tone of the report, the operation has already begun, and the request is closer to post-event confirmation."

A moment of silence fell over the bridge. Van Flick's fingertips hovered over the edge of the control panel, not moving. His prosthetic eye was fixed on the burning spire on the main display screen, as if estimating something. Flashes of explosions appeared one after another at the edge of the screen, this time closer, close enough to discern the outlines of the explosions.

Cohen asked, "Did Marcus receive it?"

"The message has been forwarded from the Black Pearl, and Lord Marcus has confirmed receipt. The fleet's high command is assessing the credibility of the report." Eleanor paused. "Sender: Senior Inquisitor Krasco of the Alien Inquisition. Identity confirmed; serial number matches the roaming port's infiltrator registration list; activation time matches the message's sending time."

Cohen paused briefly: "The reply allows the infiltration operation to continue, but primarily to observe. Activate the riot node only when Chagatai's advance reaches the outer edge of the slave district. Until then, remain silent and do not expose yourself. Furthermore, all follow-up intelligence should be prioritized and synchronized with the Black Pearl, with Marcus coordinating the operation."

"Confirmed. Responding."

The communication panel switched to standby mode. The explosion flash on the main display faded, and psionic cold light filled the rest of the screen again.

Van Frick resumed swiping the control panel, the optical probes at the tips of his knuckles moving slowly along the edge of the panel: "Klasco—he's been watching the Xenomorphs in Wandering Harbor for most of his life. If he says the informant network is real, it's probably true." His voice came from a synthesized voice amplifier, "But the Inquisition never lays all their cards on the table. They always think they're right."

Cohen did not respond.

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the USS Black Pearl.

The ship had just experienced a near-miss impact on its port side; the vibration traveled up the keel, reflecting off the terrazzo floor and walls for about three seconds before subsiding. The warning lights on the edge of the control panel continued to flash, but did not turn red; the ship's seals remained intact.

Marcus stood behind the tactical console, the blue halo of his right mechanical eye switching back and forth between the flight path map on the main display and the readings from the flank sensors. Gamor's silhouette unfolded in the center of the screen; the combined fleet's advance line had already touched the edge of the city's outer defenses. Three pale gold behemoths were being anchored; once settled, they would become the window for the Titan Legion's deployment.

First Officer Bacchus's voice came through the flank communication panel: "Left flank, a heavy cruiser has had its engine room pierced by a hidden spear and is being towed away from the combat zone. The Calicus fleet requests a change in firing windows to avoid the tugboat's path."

Without pausing, he spoke a beat faster than before: "Still on the left flank, the enemy has intensified their attack, and two Indomitable-class destroyers have been boarded and breached the bridge. The captain has ordered them to be destroyed."

Marcus didn't turn his head: "Adjust firing windows. Have the Pale Judgment of Onris lead the Hector-class cruiser squadron to fill the gaps in firepower on the left flank."

"Cruiser squadron is turning. Expected to be in position within seven minutes."

Marcus did not reply. Seven minutes was a long time on the network battlefield. He watched the moving blue arrows on the tactical projection, arrows that had to stabilize the gap on the left flank before the cruiser squadron arrived.

On the communications panel, Hera's decoding pulse lit up. Her voice came through: "Vice-Captain Marcus, forwarded by the Director General, psionic report from Garros Netway Port—Netway Ship GCN-005 arrived in the Chogris system approximately two days ago and completed the deployment of the Netway Gate in the orbit of the intraplanet. The system is activated, and White Scar is organizing the crossing sequence."

"The report is detailed."

Hera continued: "The support sequence includes the Astronautical Legion in the Chogris system and surrounding star sectors, the White Scar's mortal auxiliary forces, and task forces from multiple forging worlds."

She paused for a moment, as if confirming the completeness of the next segment of the decoding: "The report concludes with a note: All White Scar subgroups have entered maximum combat readiness, and mortal legions from surrounding star sectors are converging on Chogris. The formation size is still expanding, and the final troop strength and number of ships cannot be determined at this time. All of this is being conducted under secrecy."

Marcus straightened up and pressed the communication button: "Received. Inform the Commander-in-Chief that the fleet will continue to suppress Gamor forces and ensure the battle remains stable in our favor until new reinforcements arrive. We are closely monitoring the situation. The Marine Corps deployment window will open soon, within one round of Star Trek communication."

He switched channels and looked back at the main display. The blue arrow on the left flank was slowly moving forward; the cruiser squadron had taken its positions. Half a minute faster than he had anticipated. Good job, Onris.

The white markings of the Chagatai were still burning, moving slowly, but at a reduced speed. On the sensor panels on the flanks, three new signals were silently cutting in from the western channel surrounding the Gamo. Marcus didn't raise the alert level. He knew which three ships those signals corresponded to—dark gray paint, no Imperial Navy number on the sides, only a silver | symbol. The Inquisition's markings. The sensor array automatically labeled them "Known Friendly Forces"—

The courtroom's identification code cannot be forged or misidentified.

The communications panel flashed again. Bacchus switched in again: "Callicity Fleet reports, Admiral Joachim's flagship, the Steadfast Fist, is still maintaining dominance on the main propulsion line."

He barely paused: "The right-wing Whitescar destroyer group reports that it is reloading torpedoes and is expected to be ready for the second salvo in four minutes."

Marcus didn't turn around: "Bacchus, inform White Scar I that it is ready torpedoes and await further instructions. Do not advance alone. Keep Joachim's flagship at its current pace and do not accelerate."

"confirm."

The rearguard fleet surrounding the Black Pearl was still putting up resistance, but its density was decreasing. The bridge of the Black Pearl fell silent for a brief moment after the communications ended. Another near miss on the port side sent a jolt up the keel, this time less intense—the cruiser squadron had filled the gap in firepower on the port flank.

In orbit around the Chogris system, the skeletal robotic arm of the Garros Network Ship GCN-005 had been fully deployed. The five-kilometer-class psionic rift pulsated steadily in the stellar afterglow, and the navigator's exhaust plume emerged from the rift, leaving a blue trail of light in reality, confirming the integrity of the passage.

The formation began to pour in.

Viewed from the outer edge of the Chogris system, the psionic rift resembled a giant, ignited gate. The first to enter were navigation ships and fast destroyers from the White Scars Chapter, which immediately deployed into a guiding formation on the inner side of the network after crossing.

Following closely behind was the mortal auxiliary force of the White Scar Legion transport ship. The gray-white hulls were arranged in a dense column, and the cargo holds of each ship were full of soldiers and equipment. As they passed through the gap in the net channel, the porthole lights flickered in the cold light of the psionic energy, like candle flames swallowed by darkness.

Multiple task forces from various Forged Worlds weaved through the crowd—the insignia of Agrippina, Lucis, and more than a dozen other Forged Worlds in the Misty Starfield lit up alternately on the sides of the ships. Nearly a hundred ships entered the network portal in dense formation, their turret bases locked as they passed through, their cannons pointing towards deep space.

The Astronautical Army's transport ships occupied the longest stretch of the column. Soldiers in the cargo holds had completed final equipment checks—the terracotta armor latches snapped shut, and the laser gun charging packs were all in place. Some rested their foreheads on the cold stockings of their rifles, eyes closed, as if confirming they still remembered what "aiming" meant. No one spoke. They were about to cross a rift, entering a war they hadn't known existed when they set out.

Behind the main fleet, more ships were pouring in from the assembly points in the Chogris system. Transport ships were lined up in dense columns, each cargo hold fully loaded with troops and equipment. The entire Chogris system was being mobilized into a bridgehead to Gamor.

On the surface, the war horns continued to sound. White-scarred warriors converged on the assembly point from every corner of the grasslands—veterans silently polished their weapons, new recruits stood ramrod straight in formation, and even those candidates who had not yet passed the formal selection lined up under the battle flag. They awaited the command: to cross the net-like path and meet the Great Khan they had waited for for ten thousand years.

In a corner of the galaxy, within the prophetic dome of the Usvi Ark world, a debate is underway.

Aldrad Uslan sat on the skeletal chair in the center of the Prophet's Dome, his hands clasped on his knees. Millennia had eroded the features of his face, leaving only an almost transparent serenity. In the skeletal resonance chamber before him, psionic projections from several Ark worlds were exchanging their stances and judgments through ripples of psionic energy.

The prophet Biye-Tan spoke first: "Gammo is under attack. The emperor has sent his army into the net."

"If we do not take action, control of the Webpath will completely transfer from the Eldar to humanity—our only remaining legacy after tens of thousands of years of decline."

Iyanden's representative did not back down: "Gammo is the city of the Dark Eldar. Those lowly ones have abandoned the Eldar way, choosing only depravity and plunder. Sacrificing Eldar warriors for their city—it's not worth it."

"But the Webpath is not Gamor!" Bie-Tan's projection flickered violently. "The Webpath is the legacy of the Eldar. After those monkeys conquered Gamor, the next target will be the Ark World."

"We cannot fight both Chaos and humanity simultaneously," the Iyndon representative replied. "The war in Karata has shown that the Emperor is relentlessly repairing the Webpath. Their power is overwhelming; this human empire is fighting against the combined might of the Four Gods and the Orks. We even had to retreat from that lady; how can we possibly attack them?"

Sam Khan's representative did not join the argument. Its projection remained silent on the edge, as if waiting for something.

Aldrad waited until the psychic resonance of the argument subsided before speaking. His voice wasn't loud, but the psychic resonance chambers carried his tone to every projection unit: "Your judgments all carry weight. But I would like to draw your attention to something else—"

He paused for a moment. "Our expeditionary fleet in Karata has withdrawn. I haven't ordered an attack on either side." His gaze swept over the projections. "Those humans fighting in Karata have already established themselves in the net. They are weaving the threads of destiny faster than we anticipated. If we attack rashly, and they free up their hands, we will lose our last course in the storm."

Biye-Tan's projection was silent for a moment: "And what about Gamo?"

"Let Gamor turn to ashes." Eldrad's voice was unwavering, as if it came from another side of time. "The goddess Elsa reveals to us that only from ashes can new life be born. Let Gamor be the final sacrifice of our fallen kind."

"Withdraw all surveillance fleets." His tone remained steady, each word firmly delivered. "War with humanity would plunge us into the abyss—but we cannot allow the corridors to be completely filled with the footprints of those monkeys. Send a delegation to Terra to make contact with the human known as the Regent of the Empire. His reputation is fairly clear in the historical records of Macragge. At least—he is the kind of person worth engaging with. The Webpaths and the Eldar are one—but we can guide humanity through some of the corridors and forge a covenant against Chaos."

"If negotiations fail, then there's another path: activate the ultimate agreement. Inform all Ark Worlds, and also all Virgin Worlds. The Black Library has already begun the first step—the Black Council has received the warning, and those Guardians know what to prepare."

Iyanden's representative nodded slightly. He sensed the weight of those words. Sam Khan's projection lit up briefly to confirm.

Eldrad leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The projections began to cut off one by one—the psionic light receded from the edges of the dome, like faded threads being swept away by the wind. Eldrad sat in the gradually dimming halo until the dome fell silent once more.

The net portal that Garros built in Dagonus pulsed steadily in the darkness, ripples of the void continuously emanating from it. The Valancius family's fleet was traversing the rift—Garros's navigation ship led the way, its tail flames leaving a thin, blue trail in the cold light of the net.

Gamor had countless spoils waiting to be acquired. As an ally of Garros, Valancius was granted priority in the trade. They brought with them the full force they could muster—willing to personally acquire supplies from the Dark Eldar, trading with blood and fire.