Chapter 157 New Hairstyle?

This time, the dissection was done by the Iron Warriors' own pharmacist, partly because Perturabo was fed up with the threat of the green mold that might suddenly appear on the Phalanx.

"Introduce us, Titus." Perturabo said.

The pharmacist tried to be calm enough in front of the two Primarchs. If he had to describe his psychology, he would be a little shy when facing the Father of Genes - of course, this would not affect his professional level.

"Okay, sir." Titus replied, pointing to the Genna on the operating table.

The amber-yellow liquid flowed out of the pipes in the human-like alien organisms and was frozen at the low temperature of the laboratory. A large number of unknown parts after the intelligent machinery was disassembled were classified and placed in trays, and the content that was inconvenient to disassemble was still wrapped in bionic skin disguised as human, humming and running.

"I studied these mechanical structures with the technical sergeant," Titus said, keeping his eyes on the operating table more, "trying to explore the functions of the bionic machines."

"We connected the current to explore the relationship between the core components and limb control, and then we found that these key components for controlling bionic humans also need to be driven by psychic energy to a certain extent."

He pointed to the large number of cables connected to the bionic skull.

From the outside, these cables look like long braids of steel, with the ends inserted into the scalp of the bionic machine and connected to various control ports in a soft tissue similar to the brain. The other end can be connected to other thinkers for data transmission and program control.

"Hate intelligence?" Dorn asked. He had only seen this term in the record documents.

Perturabo leaned over, and the pharmacist handed him gloves consciously. The Primarch looked through the connections between the mechanical structures in the Genna's head with a dexterity that was contrary to the size of his fingers.

Not long after, Perturabo withdrew his hand and threw away the disposable gloves stained with sticky liquid and something similar to brain tissue.

"The mind center is incomplete," he concluded, "without the ability to make independent decisions. These bionic machines are just extensions of the mind. Only through these steel spikes can these Genna bionic machines receive dual control of remote psychic energy and electromagnetic waves. Have Magnus's psykers come to see it?"

"Ankuenan accompanied the entire disassembly process." Titus replied, "He believes that psychic energy only plays a role in ignition and maintenance of operation in this system, and does not involve the programming of core functions."

"Okay." Perturabo said, recalling the strange tone of the Genna people sent back to the flagship by the descendants in the battle video. Their minds are obviously distributed among multiple androids that can be consumed at will. Perhaps the real Genna people are remotely controlling bionic soldiers through these spike-like implants to fight their army.

"In this case, the warriors can treat the Genna people as living weapons, allowing large-scale long-range firepower saturation bombing."

"Until we find the real Genna people." Dorn said. "Given its obvious resistance, the intensity of the response measures may be considered as appropriate."

"Let's go and give the order, Dorn." Perturabo stood up and prepared to leave. "Titus, you did a good job."

The pharmacist let out a nervous cheer with a stuck sound effect in his throat, and a breathy voice floated out: "This is what I should do, Lord Perturabo."

"Let's go." Dorn said briefly.

Perturabo stared at the bionic machine on the operating table for a few more glances, and the vague idea in his mind gradually took on a concrete image.

Although this practical operation method was born from a machine close to the alien and sounded a little strange, after gaining the memory of the heretic who gave a speech to the greenskins in the Terra Webway, he felt that his reasonable and effective practical changes were not blasphemous at all - at least they respected the original form of the human body much more than the metal tentacles on the red robe Mechanic in the Webway.

As the two Primarchs walked side by side in the narrow steel corridor of the Iron Blood, Perturabo's usual walking speed, which was similar to Rogal Dorn's, slowed down due to the fact that he spent a lot of brainpower to build models in his mind, which attracted Dorn's attention.

"What are you thinking about?" Dorn asked.

"Oh," Perturabo's consciousness, immersed in a large amount of data, finally returned to reality. His speech speed was very fast at first, and then slowed down later. "I got some practical reference inspiration from the Genna people's thinking topology and existence architecture... They made me want to make something new."

"An Iron Guard?" Dorn thought for a while, "You mentioned it when we were fighting the technological heretics."

"My intelligent mechanical guards? These machines are not easy to make at present. I hope they have some special means to fight against the subspace, so I will discuss this matter with Magnus next time I meet again." Perturabo replied. "It's something else."

His mechanical guards were already being tested, but every time he thought of the good and bad things that Magnus and Morse had accomplished through the warp, he couldn't bear that his armored guards didn't have conventional anti-psychic means.

While Dorn was thinking, the two of them quickened their pace to the command room. When they passed the part of the Iron Blood where the portholes were installed, the Hall of the Twelve, Dorn said honestly: "I can't guess."

"This is a half-prepared technology." Perturabo said, and the arrangement of more components became clear in his high-speed brain, so that he could hardly suppress the idea of ​​putting it into practice immediately. Because Rogal Dorn was here, Perturabo chose to let himself catch the inspiration that might be fleeting in the next second. He stopped.

"This follow-up attack on Genna is commanded by you, Dorne. My semi-finished product is actually kept in my ship-based workshop, and now I am going to the workshop to initially perfect it. I will take the stage The results come to you.”

Rogal Dorn chose to agree after a moment of thought.

Regarding the strength of the enemy on this planet, the Primarch did not even need to intervene too much, and the Legion could complete a perfect conquest on its own. All he had to do was take care of the overall situation and finally land on the surface to bring the war to an end.

Genna's resistance quickly weakened after two rounds of bombings. The mechanical androids under unified control uniformly squeezed a curved smile, with their smooth heads randomly matched with temporary supplementary organs, filling the gaps with messy limbs, and surrendering. Rogal Dorn didn't like the artificiality of the gesture, but he didn't say anything - he didn't regard this place as his territory, so he had no additional requirements for the existence of these living beings.

Following the road still filled with smoke, the Primarch walked into the tall tower in the center of the city of Genna. Rogal Dorn was used to the smell of burning shells filling his nose.

The Iron Warriors and the Imperial Fists stood apart, silently welcoming Rogal Dorn's arrival.

"Chief Gennar demands peace," said Sigismund, and the only templar followed Dorn at his side.

As the first Templar, Sigismund set the criterion for joining the Templar upon defeating him once in combat.

Rogal Dorn is still observing whether this standard is too strict, because on the premise that new Imperial Fists warriors apply to join every night, he has only one Templar so far.

"It depends on whether they deserve peace," Roger Dorn said.

Then he heard the loud crash of the drop pod landing, and Perturabo landed on the other side of the tower. After a short period of judgment, he decided to move on and met with Perturabo outside the tower.

Soon, Perturabo appeared from the back of the tower and the new, somewhat reflective shape of his head caused Rogal Dorn's confusion. He had never seen Perturabo show related tendencies.

He asked, "Don't you like your hair?"