Chapter 153 Who Can Repair the Webway?

"It's still in its infancy," the Emperor led Malcador and Morse through the hollow mountains below the Imperial Palace. "My Webway plan."

"Even I don't know much about the Lord's plan," Malcador said, leaning on his staff, his steps slow. He spoke to both of them at the same time.

"It is not a good thing to keep secrets from your closest companions, Emperor," Morse said, holding the green bottle potted plants that had regained their transparency. Malcador was surprised by them, because the Imperial Chancellor had never seen orcs that could exist in a tiny form.

The huge space with a height of over 100 meters and a length and width of over 1,000 meters was still sleeping in the quiet golden light. From the distribution of the foundation and supporting columns, the remains of the buildings that once belonged to the Imperial prison could still be seen.

Looking around, a deep experimental space with endless potential showed a microcosm of great construction. The magnificent scene in the dark space gave Morse a sense of reality that he was going deep into the foundation of the Emperor's dream.

The half of the huge machine in the center of the space that has not yet started up, relying on the surrounding ozone smell and the unique low hum of the machine, naturally erased the traces left by the former prison and replaced it with the brilliance of sleep. The exposed mechanical components showed that they were still in the process of construction. The unprocessed arc flashed a fleeting bright color on the outer layer of the components. However, the extremely complex and special components have already shown that they are far beyond the understanding of ordinary people, and even most of the technicians in the Mechanicus.

Thousands of mechanical servants, slaves and Mechanicus technicians are busy circling between the maze-like cables and mechanical structures. Combined with the plan to be launched here, called the Webway, Morse inexplicably has the illusion of witnessing the birth of the first computer in human history. Humans have become extremely small on the edge of this machine, but this machine is indeed built for such small humans.

At the core of the machine, a golden throne as high as ten meters began to take shape, and more cables were connected to two golden doors.

There were countless magnificent patterns engraved on the two heavy golden doors. Just a glance at them, Morse saw many typical images in mythology, such as the Ceryne doe drinking water on the island in the middle of the lake, the Nemean lion tearing the lamb, the centaur pointing arrows to the sky, etc. If he had to list them one by one, Morse could not compare the name of a guard and the list of myths here.

"I smell the smell of humans making large-scale modifications to alien technology." Morse whispered, turning his green glass jar over and over again.

"Why?" The emperor asked. In order to show up in front of outsiders, he had put on his golden armor again, looking stern and majestic. "I found this machine in the Asian desert of Terra, not on some distant planet."

"I mean the Webway," Morse said. "I have seen the Eldar, and have always wondered how they can travel faster than light by another method other than warp navigation. I have found two abandoned doors surrounded by curved white bone-like substances, with light blue mechanical wing debris falling outside the doors. Now that I see your golden gate, I find that I may have missed something very interesting, such as the knowledge of the Webway."

"Which planet is that?" the Emperor asked.

"Not far from Olympia," Morse replied. "Hae-clus, that's what the locals call it - if there are still locals on that planet with volcanic ash floating in the atmosphere."

The Emperor's expression did not change.

"Then," he said, "if the plan succeeds, it may only take a few hours of safe journey from Terra to Olympia."

"What a good dream." Morse stretched out his hand, expanded his perception range, and his diffused consciousness explored outside the golden door. He immediately withdrew his hand. "This door is not connected to any complete road. It is not a Webway Gate."

"Yes, Morse," said Malcador. "It is not yet."

"Our Emperor hopes to use this as a starting point," the Grey Chancellor tapped the ground with his staff, "to build a separate road to the Webway itself. And this machine is the guarantee for humans to build roads in the non-material realm. Otherwise, humans cannot safely operate in the Webway, nor can they connect materials from the material universe to the Webway's non-replicable mental energy reflective material."

"Five minutes ago, someone hinted that he did not understand the Webway," said Morse.

Malcador smiled slightly.

"The Custodians and the Mechanicus will cooperate in the restoration of the Webway." The Emperor approached the golden chair in the center of the huge machine. His psychic body could adapt to this too tall chair, or a Primarch who was also tall enough.

The Emperor lowered his head, and his golden armored hand ran across the side of the golden throne, calmly looking at the half-finished high-tech work.

In Morse's view, the Emperor's golden eyes reflected a rather cruel machine - he could see that only the psychic drive and endless self-sacrifice day and night could satisfy the insatiable appetite of this huge machine with the style of the dark technological era.

Combined with the size of the machine, he silently decided in his heart a name that the Emperor was going to let sit on the chair.

"I have a general understanding, Emperor." Morse and Malcador stood in front of the golden gate waiting for the Emperor to come back, "How about introducing some specific matters to me?"

"You are already here, it seems that no one can make you leave before I satisfy your curiosity."

The Emperor walked back calmly, his expression was calm, although his facial expression had not changed even a single eyebrow since he stepped into this huge laboratory.

"First, we obtain the coordinates of the webway closest to this place and establish a connection with the Golden Throne. Then, we complete the machine. After that, we build a road between this door and the main body of the webway for members of the Mechanicus to penetrate The network channel will be inspected, maintained and modified. After all is completed, it will be a limited navigation test. "

Morse was silent for a few seconds.

"Do you know how this makes me feel, my Emperor?"

The Emperor blinked. "I don't know what's going on in your mind, Morse."

"It gives me the feeling that anyone who understands the above terms can make up a more detailed set of rhetoric than this." Morse deliberately made the sound of teeth clashing amplified, "The current technical difficulties and resource issues What about your construction regulations and personnel organization issues? Or do you want to let the Custodes and Mechanicus take full control of it? That's fine, but who will build this webway for the Emperor who is fighting outside? , or who will command the army for the Emperor who is building the Webway?"

"There are still some technical problems that have not been solved. This is a technological field that is completely unfamiliar to humans." The emperor's volume seemed to have dropped. "The Mechanicus has rich experience. I don't think it is necessary to overly interfere in the work of professionals."

"Okay, Emperor." Morse closed his eyes and opened them after a few seconds, "I'm worried. It's still early now, the youngest Thirsty One was born not long ago, and the subspace is still quite calm in general. You have Time unfolds steadily.”

"So, do you have any ideas for solving these problems - especially the difficulties with the ancient alien technology?" Morse said, "By the way, I have no problem with you. If you think what I say is unpleasant, then I must have been spending too much time with Roger Dorn."

"You are different from Rogal Dorn. Your bad words are caused by subjective and deliberate sarcasm." The Emperor said solemnly, and glanced in the direction of Malcador, who understood and let his expression be confused. Covered by the shadow of the hat, he leaned the tip of the scepter against the golden door.

"Then I'm really sorry, Neos," Morse said, speaking quickly and softly, the syllables running together indistinctly.

The golden door, which was large enough to accommodate the Titans, opened a slit. The Emperor took the lead in entering the void behind the door and turned back to look at Mors and Malcador.

"Your bottle?"

"Good seal."

The Emperor nodded, and Malcador and Morse followed him in turn.

The golden cold psychic energy turned into bricks at the feet of the Empire's most powerful psykers, sliding forward along a thread that could only be observed with etheric vision. After the Webway is completed, this stretch of void will be replaced by a complete protective layer, making it easier for Imperials to travel through.

At the other end of the void, the mist gently embraces a hazy milky-white building. Endless and sourceless light caresses the appearance of the milky-white building, interspersed with the flowing mist.

The Webway is not a perfectly seamless tunnel. Its existence is far more mysterious than any transportation artery that humans can recognize. They drifted into the webway space, and the thick mist spreading on the ground reflected irregular spots of light from the Emperor's golden boots, and they let out a faint groan when the three intruders arrived.

If Yinwit's day and night are eternal, then these two concepts have simply been lost in the Webway. The existence of the sky in the conventional sense is completely denied, and all space is immersed in eternal hazy mist.

They landed in an extremely huge city. Due to the inversion of space, it was difficult to estimate the specific size, and it was impossible to imagine the extreme point of its boundary.

Vast but deserted streets and crumbling towers are spread in every corner of the city. The boundaries between churches and residential buildings are blurred. Huge alien blocks that are complex and uncountable are covered with the soles of the feet called the ground. Looking directly above, it is also covered with pale and unknown buildings, which are deep and profound. As far as the eye can see, you can still only see a lot of mist and buildings intertwined.

In this mysterious city, majestic towers soar into the sky, but miraculously end at the ground; roads extending in all directions extend vertically upwards. If any mortal travelers set foot here, they might be obsessed with the concept of the ground - Morse briefly tried to touch the gravity field here and found that no matter which plane the travelers were on, their feet would Stick firmly to a flat surface and accept the protection of gravity as if you were walking on the ground.

"I do have a planning document." The emperor said, "It is currently written in a standard document format on page 3020. Most of the content is a study of the technical issues of the construction itself. As for the engineering safety regulations, this Things are not in a hurry.”

"You are a technical researcher, Emperor. As always," Morse said.

Malcador nodded for Morse. "Exactly," the prime minister glanced at the tall man in golden armor, "Besides, safety regulations still need to be written with more specific construction details."

"Of course, even Perturabo understands this." Morse tossed the green can in his hand, and the green can staggered around.

His green leather bottle feels strange to hold now, and he feels uneasy to put it down. It is better to hold it than to weigh the two aspects. The miniature green skins in the bottle were stunned to see new things, and each of them pressed their faces against the glass to observe the situation.

"If I must give an evaluation, Perturabo is a skilled master of engineering, even more so than a general and marshal who leads armies in war. My Emperor, if you need a Primarch to assist in the construction of the Webway, I am indeed objective. I recommend Perturabo to you."

"The Primarchs have their mission," said the Emperor. "To fight and revive, they walk in the bright light of the universe."

"But the Webway is another key battlefield. Repair, strengthen, and defend, so that the empire in your mind can rise." Mors retorted, "If you personally entrust such important tasks to Perturabo, he will exert more than all his talents."

The Emperor thought and shook his head, without explicitly objecting: "In any case, we must first overcome the technical difficulties. Even the pinnacle of human technology has not surpassed the technology of the Webway itself, not to mention that too many cutting-edge technologies have been lost."

"Even if the race that built the Webway is not the Aida, it is related to them." Mors said, holding his green glass bottle. He always felt that the bottle seemed to be singing praises to the big golden guy. "It's a pity that I'm afraid it's impossible to find a race that understands such ancient technology now."

"The Eldar have been swallowed by the evil consequences they brewed." Malcador said calmly in his old voice.

Several people walked along the street, crossed the crystal bridge across the abyss of nothingness, and stepped into a spiral crystal tower. On both sides of the curved corridor in the tower stood some severely weathered alien statues. The idols that were once worshipped were eroded by time along with their races themselves.

The Emperor stretched out his hand, palm down, as if to cover the huge city.

"This place is one of the relics left by the Eldar, and it is also the gateway and important intersection of the webway. The webway extends outward from the edge of the city. According to my observation, thousands of secondary channels and main roads are connected to this city, leading directly to the farthest border of the galaxy."

"In my design, the steel of Terra and Mars will be integrated with the channels composed of supernatural materials here, and the mental energy reflective material will maintain a fusion state with the laws of physics under the guidance of the Golden Throne."

"So, the core of the plan is to use huge psychic energy to forcibly bond the material universe and the webway. As long as the thrust is sufficient, bricks and stones can also get rid of the constraints of gravity." Morse shook his head and said nothing more.

He saw that the Emperor was also powerless: no matter how brilliant a genius was, he could not use only a few decades to decipher the legacy left by that mysterious race thousands of years ago.

All they could do was to stretch out their hands and grope forward, praying that no sudden disaster would destroy the entire project. Whether it was external or the entire plan itself.

"We have no choice." The Emperor said, "We cannot expect the descendants of the ancient race to be willing to kneel down and help us humans revive in the galaxy. The web is only opened up by us."

A strong vibration came from the bottle in Morse's hand. He frowned slightly, picked up the bottle and looked at it, and his hands were shaking so much that the bottle almost fell off the tower and fell into the bottomless abyss.

The greenskins in the bottle had erected a golden statue of the Emperor using the soil and a small amount of metal materials that Morse had added earlier. A group of greenskins, who had been passed down for countless generations, were surrounding the statue of the Emperor and shouting "Long live the golden big guy", while happily rubbing their messy miniature creations with the metal scraps in their hands. A small forge appeared without reason, which was the reason why the bottle was vibrating.

If that was the case, Morse would only laugh. What really made him completely unable to understand was that this group of vulgar and barbaric guys with extremely bizarre technological development gathered together to simulate and rub the small building model with mysterious power, which was exactly a very miniature corner of the huge city connected to the webway in front of him.

And next to this miniature corner, the greenskins were happily expanding a super-ragged webway several microns long, which was built by metal scraps inexplicably transformed into a half-baked super-degraded version of mental energy reflective material.