Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 207 Battle of Osiris (1)

For Robert Guilliman, the experience of emerging from the warp for the first time was like surfacing from a pool at the bottom of a waterfall in spring after fishing, accompanied by a rumbling echo and a brief moment of daze.

This state lasted for several minutes: the subsequent daze was not caused by the impact of the vast ocean ripples, but by the deep thinking triggered by the golden and blue light bursting from the flagship of the Iron Warriors Company.

That kind of vigorous and incomprehensible energy made the entire world that he thought he was familiar with suddenly covered with a strange veil. His multi-threaded brain immediately separated several idle cores to deduce what combination of conditions in Macragge's existing technology and even the current military technology level of the entire human empire could achieve a fraction of this miraculous effect.

No, his reason said, there was no possibility.

The theory of energy was being completely overturned, and the existing physical knowledge was completely trampled under the golden and blue light. Extraordinary, majestic, and controllable, this is neither the empirical knowledge that humans can use but still cannot understand, nor the theoretical basis that has been incorporated into the reality and truth system. That is...

He almost used the adjective "mysterious" which symbolizes surrender to the unknown and irrationality. In a sense, what really hit Robert was the uncertainty of his mind that he gave up the search in an instant.

"What is that?" Guilliman asked, hoping that the former commander of the legion, his current adjutant Glenn Wosoto, could give him an answer that could be delivered by decades of expedition experience, an answer to the phenomenon and upper limit of psychic energy.

"A black shadow with golden light." Glenn said, "Wearing iron armor."

"What?"

"There." Glenn reminded his gene father not to continue looking out the window, "Captain of the Iron Warriors. Barabas Dantioch."

Robert Guilliman turned from the window, his eyes detached from the dark background of the real universe, and fell on the three-color armor of steel and black and yellow stripes that was emerging in the command room.

An image with golden lines appeared silently, just like a photo being washed out. The face of the Iron Warrior Captain was covered by a helmet with a vertical breathing grid. The regular diagonal yellow and black lines were laid on the warrior's right shoulder armor and left knee. The serial number of the Fourth Legion was engraved on the corner of the left shoulder armor and the right knee. With several decorative iron chains, the stacked ring leg armor and waist armor were separated in a simple and beautiful way.

"Captain of the Seventh Company of Iron Warriors, Barabas Dantioch." Guilliman said.

"Respected Primarch." Dantioch said, and the golden light faded from his body.

"Why are you here?" Guilliman couldn't help asking, "We didn't receive any connection requests. Is this also the short-range communication imaging of the Empire?"

"No, this is psychic energy." The Iron Warrior said calmly, raising a hand. The flowing illusory light loomed in the gaps between his movements, making his image now different from the body of the Astartes in reality. "In order to maintain more timely communication, I appear here."

"Psychic energy." Guilliman repeated, reluctantly accepting this reality. As long as the short-distance communication array is connected, the interface and unified locator are built, the holographic image can also appear in some ways that are more in line with existing physical common sense.

Perhaps one day, without the unanalyzable psychic energy, the human empire can also obtain this super-standard communication method, then Guilliman will be even happier.

In fact, it has always been one of the highest wishes of Archon Connor Guilliman to regain communication with many countries in the vast territory that Ultramar once owned.

Limited by technological obstacles, they have to choose to focus on reforms within the planet-this is both a skill to choose a breakthrough when there are many difficulties, and a last resort.

Guilliman sometimes does think that if the Empire's expeditionary fleet had not come here so early, they might find his trace among the stars after a few years or decades.

"Did the explosion just now cause any damage to you, Captain?"

"Under the protection of Craftsman Morse, we were fortunate to survive that sudden small crisis smoothly."

"He is a psyker." Robert said, hoping that his words did not sound like a confused murmur, "Okay. Is this the power of psykers?"

"We often think that this mentor of Primarch Perturabo is the most special kind of psyker. Other psykers on our ship do not have the characteristics he has shown."

"Very tactful." Robert paused, and found that he was a little guilty of being relieved that the average level of psykers in the Empire was not as exaggerated as Morse.

He looked out the window again, and at the end of the Primarch's sight, another explosion suddenly broke out, and the flammable gas released from the ship's cabin exploded into a fleeting string of orange-red sparks. The dark void swallowed the roars of the two fighting parties, and the destruction was carried out in silence.

"I don't know enough about the orcs." The Primarch said, "Can you tell me that they are now waging a civil war?"

"In Morse's monitoring, yes. If you need, I can ask Morse if he wants to share it with you."

"I'm not a good translator," a disembodied voice suddenly interrupted, "There is no way to simultaneously translate the greenskins' interjections. Also, they are not completely in a civil war."

"Please share the monitoring content with me, Artisan." Robert chose a title that was probably unmistakable. He had little personal relationship with Morse.

"Work harder, boys," Big Tooth said. Its chariot passed between the orcs, carrying a huge big tug. The bomb exploded the green skinned flesh and broken iron pieces all over the ground. Yes, the machete and cheers shuttled between the heads and disemboweled flying bodies of the same kind everywhere. The grunts ran around in panic, which annoyed the big tooth boss. It howled and tore apart with its hydraulic claws. Corpses, internal organs fell off, some technician boys had their heads bitten off by the influx of crazy similar people, shock waves from nowhere rolled across the battlefield, some psychic boys blew themselves up, and an old psychic boy was in a bad mood A strange green light emitted from his hand, wildly shattering the psychic chain used to control the enemy greenskins..."

"I can continue to translate like this. Do you need it, Primarch?"

"Give me a summary of the situation." After reluctantly accepting a few new words and filing them into his mental database, Robert decided to listen to the overall situation.

"To sum up, a group of greenskins discovered that another wave of greenskins were controlled by some kind of psychic creature and were going to attack a group of weak shrimps - our fleet. They thought this was too waaagh, so Go attack another wave of greenskins," Morse said, as a figure in black robes appeared in the command room of the Ultramarines. "They trap each other. What is your decision, Primarch?"

"I don't know the greenskins." Guilliman said this strange word. "What is the relationship between the Empire and them?"

"It seems that no one has told you that hating aliens is one of the key concepts of the entire human empire. As for the Greenskins themselves, on the whole, we are considered enemies. Therefore, what is your decision?" Morse raised his head. , looked at Robert Guilliman calmly, with no unnecessary emotion in his tone.

"Give me a suggestion, Glenn Wasotto."

"Kill them," the deputy commander said shortly. "Both sides together."

"Marius Gage, tell me, based on combat experience, how many units of greenskins can we kill with the long-range firepower we carry?"

"It's difficult to estimate, the original body." The first company commander replied, "The upper and lower limits of green skin technology fluctuate greatly."

Before Robert asked him, the craftsman shook his head: "I am just an observer. Unless you are personally on the verge of death, or my shelter is attacked, I will not join the battlefield."

He paused and glanced at a request that was flashing on the data pad: "Can someone please pay attention to the Imperial Fists?"

Marius connected the signal after getting Robert's nod.

The head of an Astartes appeared on the screen at the same time, as did the middle part of a Primarch's body in golden armor.

After Achamus, who claimed to be the Lord of the Haskar Guard, greeted Robert Guilliman, Rogal Dorn took over the communicator and pointed the camera at his rock-like face: "Against these green Leather Orc, what is your decision, Robert Guilliman?"

"We are discussing." Robert said, "Do you have any suggestions, Rogal Dorn? I believe that my lieutenant's proposal to kill all orcs is reasonable, but this is not our battle goal. We carry ammunition against Osiris, Provide supplies, discuss theories, lay out tactics, and make corresponding pre-war preparations. An unexpected battle will disrupt the entire rhythm of the war."

Dorn listened quietly, and half a second after Robert finished speaking, he opened his mouth: "Your view is that you hoped to kill the orcs, but hesitated due to lack of preparation, right?"

"Yes." Robert admitted, although he felt uncomfortable admitting it. "I can't lead 29,000 soldiers who haven't gained enough understanding before completing the mission goal..."

"Thirty-three thousand." Rogal Dorn corrected, "My and Perturabo's heirs are currently on secondment in your hands, and their lives belong to you."

"Let's go around." Robert didn't hesitate anymore.

He didn't need to fill up the Empire's medals of honor with bullets and lives, not to mention that the orcs were just a forest cover for their real enemies. The real enemy is and will only be the enemy commander who exists in the military order, and they have exposed part of their ability before causing any damage-the mind-playing psyker.

great. Robert thought. Whatever psionic beings were, he was about to kill a group of psionic users.

"Thank you for your advice, Roger Dorn," Robert said.

Dorn responded with a simple nod, then handed the communicator back to his heir. The White-haired Primarch has little need for praise from his brothers.

Acamus took over the communication device. "The Fourth Company of the Imperial Fists will follow the Ultramarines. If there is any accident, please contact us," he said, cutting off the communication.

"I wish Perturabo was here," Mors whispered. "In fact, I think he's starting to feel pity."

His figure disappeared sooner than his floating words.

The last to stop was Barabas Dantioch. Separated by an iron mask and the actual barrier caused by space, Robert could not judge the emotion of this steel warrior. But before leaving, Dantioch gave him a message: "Thank you, Primarch Robert Guilliman."

He did not specify what he was thanking, but Robert Guilliman hoped that the Captain was thanking him for his wisdom.

Dantioch. Well, he remembered the name.

——

"Check the missile racks, brother." Valentus Doro said, "We are scouts, but we are not going to die."

The display on Caspian's helmet prompted him that all the racks on the Stormbird were in good condition. He told Valentus. "I have checked it many times, sir. And it is not time for us to land yet."

"Don't call me sir, Verus Caspian." Valentus jumped out of the cabin of the Stormbird, "We are not that unfamiliar."

"I'm sorry, Valentus, but to be honest, you and our father suddenly become a little similar." Caspian shook his head, "It makes me a little nervous-and, my God, I still only dare to call him father in private. He doesn't seem to like this very much."

"Don't talk too much, Caspian." Valentus said, "Watch your language."

"Yes, sir."

The process of waiting for the ship to approach the Osiris star field is long. In order to avoid disturbing the Ork groups that were fighting each other and to save their own ammunition and energy, Robert Guilliman's Goliath-class battleship led the fleet to take a long detour.

They gradually entered a chaotic area full of burning debris, dangerous gunpowder and radiation. The range of eleven stars has been filled with extremely wide traces of battles in three-dimensional space; the Orks and some ship debris that can be vaguely identified as belonging to the Empire's planets float in the deep night sky, swirling under the influence of gravity, splashing steel wreckage and debris.

The debris covering the entire star system made the Space Marines fall silent. Judging from the battlefield situation, these countless Orks actually occupied an assisting position in the Empire's current operation: if this team of more than 20,000 Ultramarines broke into this star area directly, they would undoubtedly pay a heavy price, not to mention that there is a race using psychic energy hiding behind the scenes waiting for an opportunity to move.

The Imperial Expeditionary Force's augury scanner has begun to act, and countless data are rolling in front of the Astartes commander and the mortal crew.

A new order was sent to the Ultramarines through the built-in voice transmitter. "Scout team, prepare to enter the Osiris Cluster."

"Scout team received." Valentus replied, scanning the Stormbird parked in the scout ship again, and then turned around. "Follow up, Caspian, and Iote Kappa, come over. Go to the cockpit, we need to adjust the route and backup route in real time."

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