Chapter 119 Rogdorn

No. 11 Dorne

"We adapt to the environment to survive. The old man poked the burning wood in the fireplace with a pair of tongs, and the swaying warm flames blocked the howling snow and wind outside the window.

Deep in the snow and wind, the energy tower shone orange and yellow light through the heavy snow like a veil in the eternal night, and everything in the world was shaking slightly in peace and quiet.

"But we don't have to hunt in a primitive way," said the boy. He sat upright while speaking, as if holding something in his hand. "This is a waste of manpower and resources. The factory has already completed the food supply."

"No, Roger." The old man shook his head slowly, and the warm and jumping firelight painted a layer of hazy kindness in the criss-crossing ravines on his serious face. "We must remember how the Invit people survived the initial ice age tenaciously. "

The boy followed the old man's hand and looked at the fireplace. The fire crackled and shone a blazing light in his light-colored eyes. For a moment, the whole field of vision was filled with only the scorching flames.

After an unknown amount of time, he turned his head in a daze. In a dreamlike trance, he once again let his eyes follow the frail old man's arm under the thin blanket and look up. The old man was even older, with large brown spots deposited on the surface of his skinny skin, and his eyes were no longer stern because they were half-closed.

"Rog," the old man said, "you are not of the blood of the Dorne family."

"I know." The young man answered calmly, and the thing in his palm was grasped tightly, and some old fluff seemed to be sticking to his palm. I feel a sense of belonging to the Dorne family. I am a Dorne. I cherish my family relationship with you."

The old man nodded his head gently and gradually fell asleep peacefully. He was weak and shrunken, like a shadow by the fire, fading and disappearing in waves.

The fur robe that the old man wore as a blanket fell quietly into the swaying chair, and was picked up by the young man, who held it in his broad hands, as if holding up a warm memory from the beginning.

The blizzard seemed to have stopped. Tidal locking made half of Inwit's world forever face the last polar day given to the world by the dying star, while the other half of the world slept forever in the long night.

The young man walked out of the house slowly, and his body seemed to become bigger with every step. He stepped out of the door and stepped into the black sky after the snow stopped. He lifted his thick boots and stepped down again, leaving the footprints of a giant.

He walked out of the hut, and after a few steps, he seemed to have gradually walked out of this hemisphere and crossed the boundary between day and night in the vast ice and snow.

Unconsciously, there were more people following him, those wearing fur hats, thick robes, wine bottles hanging on their belts, people who came out of ice caves, and replaced their limbs frozen in the ice and snow with mechanical prostheses, following his footsteps with deep and shallow steps.

He seemed to hear people calling his name, "Dorne", they called, some called him emperor. When they came to see him with important business and serious requests, he could hear his own voice answering, vaguely, as if through ice water.

Some people cursed him, and some knelt down to pray for blessings. He was not angry, but he didn't understand why these people were so thoughtful and sentimental.

He raised his head without knowing when, and through the atmosphere he seemed to see a huge shadow floating in orbit. For the land of eternal daylight, the shadow was a silent gift, and the shadow could not be seen in the dark night on the back of the planet.

He stretched out a hand to the sky, and the gilded glove seemed to hold up the dark shadow.

Suddenly, in a blur, he came to the shadow, facing countless broken pipes and remaining walls and thinking.

The tall giant decided to repair this huge thing, and the Inwit people followed him. So many engineers worked day and night on the mountain array to study ancient technology. Yes, the mountain array, yes, the mountain array, the name of this space fortress...

The stars gathered towards him, and he saw them clearly. It turned out that they were people from the surrounding neighboring galaxies who came to surrender to his seat.

The people of Inwit knew a little bit about how to dive and float quickly through the deep ocean at close range, so he heard more praises. He was a king, an emperor, and the master of a small piece of stars. He was never proud of it, he did what he could do.

In front of him, the mountain array turned into an endless maze or nest. He persevered in dismantling it bit by bit, analyzing it, and repairing this sleeping fortress. His progress was slow, and the mountain array had not yet responded to him, but he would wake her up one day.

He seemed to be holding something soft and warm in one hand, looking for a hidden screw, letting the rusty nail fall into his empty hand, and then replacing it with a new nail. Fuel was poured into the furnace, but he returned empty-handed. Snowstorms arose on the ground, sweeping away the night and the day. He was not afraid, waiting for the next day, the next day, and the next day, to continue to survive a blizzard, and the mountains were listening to his voice...

The electric light that was automatically lit at the hour in the morning sprinkled white light on the bed, illuminating the giant's eyelids that were trembling because of his dream.

Rogal Dorn was completely awake the moment he opened his eyes, skipping the gap of sleepiness, and the giant's reason immediately took over the rudder of thinking from the dream of memories.

He loosened his hand, put down the warm fur blanket left to him by the old patriarch, and quickly got up from the bed.

Rog Dorn chose a conventional outfit of a dark blue suit on the upper body and brown trousers with a belt and leather boots on the lower body. After breakfast, he went to his studio as scheduled.

He continued the unfinished project of yesterday and continued to calculate the operating principle of the air supply area of ​​the fuel supply on the Phalanx until lunch time.

After finishing lunch on time, Rog Dorn began to deal with the government affairs sent today. No urgent documents were sent, so today's topic was to solve the regional abnormality of the water supply maintenance system caused by the blizzard.

Before dinner, he ordered his subordinates to gather for a short meeting, announced several of his decisions, and ended the meeting within fifteen minutes.

Then, after dinner, he boarded the space shuttle to the Phalanx. Rog Dorn will spend the next day and a half completely in this magnificent space fortress.

If nothing unexpected happens, he will calculate the time to return to the deck of the starship, wait for the Invit people to pick him up and return to the surface to continue the next day's schedule.

However, when he was walking on the deck, the signal receiver hanging on his waist suddenly rang.

A radio wave entered the instrument, calling for a response.

Rog Dorn picked up the communication instrument, did not connect immediately, but looked up at the deep space. He immediately saw a string of silver-gray dots, smaller and colder than the stars.

He held up the radio communication device and strode into the interior of the Phalanx, arranged for technical workers to stand by, prepared to guide the landing of a starship, and waited for the arrival of the unknown fleet at a higher point in the Phalanx.

After handling the relevant matters in an orderly manner in a very short time, Rogal Dorn pressed the button and held the communication device ten inches away from his head to answer the call.

"Unknown Primarch," a strange voice came over the radio wave, and the mixed sound of electricity made it slightly distorted. "It is a pleasure to meet you. You must have already understood the mission given to you by the Emperor of Mankind. The Lord of the Fourth Legion, the Primarch of the Iron Warriors, Perturabo from Olympia will return to Terra with you to meet our Creator."

"Received, Lord of the Fourth Legion, Primarch of the Iron Warriors, Perturabo from Olympia, I am Rogal Dorn. I will command your fleet to land safely."

Rogal Dorn responded politely, not understanding why the other side suddenly fell silent.