Chapter 64 Communication Time

"Do we need to contact the Emperor's fleet?" Haco said, "Our firepower is not enough. The Eighth Expeditionary Fleet and our various battle groups are on standby near Terra. If we continue to move forward, this battle will be between us. Explodes without preparation.

"Our current heavy artillery and armor are not enough to deal with this group of human traitors." Nador Connor frowned, "The equipment sent by Mars is still being tested. Except for the expedition-type power armor with more armor than people, we Nothing. After all, we are just a delegation of officers.”

"If a war breaks out, this will be an unexpected battle." Defess said, "We are too obsessed with showing ourselves in front of the original body, and we have actually neglected the armed configuration of the fleet itself. A set of bow torpedo launch tubes, What can we do with two broadside weapon arrays and two turrets?”

"Maybe those traitors are not powerful." Haco shook his head, "Maybe they will be the first gift we send to the original body."

"Or the first shame." Defes frowned.

From the Oro Highlands of Seiko Ameka, to the Zedik Islands and polar research stations, to the extremely glorious Battle of Venus after the last batch of Terran eradication operations, countless honors have brought him double scars, and scars bring caution.

"You don't know whether the opponent is holding a spear or a defensive laser system, and you don't know what ancient technology trap you will fall into if you continue to move forward. You want our flag of honor to fall in front of the original body, let us "Did his brother die in front of the Primarch and the Emperor?"

"That's why they started to judge us for not being enterprising, Defes." Haco said coldly, "Our battle started earlier than most legions, and we spent more blood and bullets than any legion. Now, I have heard many times other legions comment on a staid legion who thinks too highly of himself with his heraldic banner. "

"Or we take cover, dive back into FTL sailing, and record where they go."

"Do you want the Primarch to think that all his officers are deserters?"

"Stop bickering, brothers," Nardole said, stepping away from the console, "for the ship's communication has been sent. Wait for the Primarch's decision."

——

"...The genetic seeds of the Fourth Legion are extremely stable, and their numerous battle results have given the Emperor priority to deliver more new types of weapons from Mars to them."

Horus raised an eyebrow. This small gesture made him appear more lively than he looked. "There is something that is best not to be told to our future third brother. Some of his troops have even been deployed to the Fourth Legion, because The contrast in the stability of your gene seeds is too stark."

+Horus. +

Horus stood up straight reflexively, "Father," he replied.

+Take Perturabo to the command room, we have an urgent communications request. +

"Yes!" Horus replied. Within two sentences, he had already thought of the problem. "Perturabo, let's go to the command room. Your army is encountering difficulties."

"A temporary battle?" Perturabo followed Horus forward quickly. If it is for non-combat reasons, there is no need to go to the command room.

"Perhaps," Horus said seriously.

The hatch of the command room opened automatically the moment the two stepped on the floor in front of the door. In the center of the circular room, countless holographic projections were constantly being refreshed. Each projection was far more complicated than ordinary people could imagine, and considering that this was the Imperial The emperor's flagship, many of the contents in the projection are not only complicated, but also can be said to be absolutely secret from the empire except for a few people.

Horus strode to the center of the room with familiar steps, deleted a large number of regular reports and movements from other fleets, and maximized the communication interface sent by the Fourth Legion.

Horus gave him a gesture of encouragement. He gave up his position, and Perturabo immediately took over. Through a few simple operations of Horus, he understood the operation method of this projection and connected the communication request.

Images of three soldiers appeared before him.

At this moment, he automatically analyzed the body structure of these soldiers that was different from ordinary people, the function of the armor made of many ceramic armor rings stacked up, and the current relationship between the three of them. At the same time, he also learned that although this communication was urgent, no one was in danger.

He singled out the officer with the Winged Bolt badge of honor on his center pauldron: "I am Perturabo, your Primarch. Report to me."

"Yes, sir." The officer's excitement after seeing the original body could be heard through the helmet, and the tremor in his tone buzzed through the helmet's breathing grid.

"After we left the subspace, we captured a set of abnormal images." A video was sent to Perturabo. "After preliminary judgment, this group of large ships was leaving the Olympia and Melantara star clusters. It conforms to the regular characteristics of human ships and should be the remains of the ancient human race."

"We cannot confirm whether getting closer will trigger a war, and the firepower we bring here cannot ensure the annihilation of the enemy. After discussion, we have decided to return the command to you. Please make your choice."

The officer on his left sent a set of documents: "This is the current list of armed forces of the fleet represented by the officers of the Fourth Army. Sir, we will never avoid war."

"I'm sorry, sir. We can't bring you a more glorious first meeting." The voice of the officer on the right was quite dull, and the apology made him speechless.

Perturabo's expression did not change at all.

He really never imagined that his first meeting with his legion would be like this. And the unwarranted admiration and guilt and apology of several big gun-metal-colored iron shells towards him did not arouse any special emotions.

He only knew that a military mission was now being presented to him, and he was once again responsible for making choices for the warriors who trusted him - as for the heirs, he did not want to call them that for the time being.

Perturabo could guarantee that his face looked younger than any warrior in the entire legion.

He sped through the images, his eyebrows lowered, disgust appearing on his face.

"They are fleeing Olympia." He concluded immediately, "Heretics who bully the weak and fear the strong. I originally wanted to deal with them when I built Olympia myself and brought it into space civilization, but now they have foolishly abandoned the lair they have occupied for many years, in the Emperor's Run away in advance when the glory comes.”

"Horus," Perturabo turned to the man in wolfskin, "may I temporarily mobilize part of the Emperor's fleet?"

"These scum are the remnants of ancient humans living in this area. I know little about them, but after several years of research, I can confirm that they rely on dark ancient technology to distort their own living form, regularly ingesting or transforming Young human genetic material and continued life. Locally they are called black judges, and I prefer to call their status alien."

As Perturabo spoke, countless conclusions he drew from historical data and massive calculations flashed through his mind, as well as Morse's approval of his speculations at that time. He once again confirmed his conclusion to himself.

"Under the condition that they voluntarily break away from the many satellites that have built a defense system, I think that relying solely on the strength of the Fourth Legion here will not be able to defeat their fleeing tentacles. But coupled with the fleet deployed by the Emperor, everything will be impossible. It became more than enough.”

Horus looked deeply at his newfound brother, suddenly realizing another side of Perturabo. Previously, he had a pleasant chat with an artist in the golden corridor, but now, in the cold-colored command room, he saw a leader.

"A very bold request, my brother," he said. "The mobilization of the Emperor's fleet is impossible, and the pride of the Ten Thousand Men is beyond compare. But in these special circumstances, cooperation may be allowed. I will ask Father, and wearing armor."

"War Armor?"

"Do you want me to watch my brother in simple light armor go to the battlefield while I hide in the back?" Horus laughed.