Chapter 65 Dialogue and their respective backhands
"Have you heard this beautiful sound of artillery? Captain Kristen."
In the prison cell on the Heart of Honor, Jutas and Kristen were having a conversation between two Astartes captains, separated by a layer of position locks.
"You guys don't keep your word. You never really wanted to let us live."
Captain Christen, who was exhausted from torture, raised his head and looked at Jutas outside the prison.
"No, no, no, that short-lived mortal still wants you to survive, otherwise why would he put so much effort into negotiating terms with you? But I am different, I don't want you to survive." p>
Jutas' cold voice clearly conveyed his hostility to Kristen's ears through the helmet's loudspeaker.
"Why! We are both Astartes! We...are brothers."
Kristen looked at Jutas who was just a step away in confusion. The war eagle on his body, which was also the symbol of the empire, the skull that symbolized purity, and even the same bright yellow paint that was rare on his power armor, seemed so so at this moment.
The place is strange.
"Brothers? How did we ever have this thing? Where were you when we didn't even have basic medicines after the mission and watched our comrades die?
Where were you when we didn't even have a ceramic supplement and could only eat those inferior Astra Militarum rations?
Where were you when we fought for the Empire to the end and the whole company couldn't even put together a set of undamaged power armor?
We never had brothers! We didn’t even have a parent group!
How could you ever regard us as brothers! You don’t even have the desire to look at us!
Have you forgotten our mission in the forge world of Grea? It’s only been 300 years, you won’t forget it, right?
How do you and your brothers treat us who have worked so hard to come from more than half of the star field?
1,000 rounds of explosive bombs. You don’t remember, but I remember it clearly.
This is enough for these hybrids who don’t even know who the father of the gene is. Aren’t these your exact words?
Brother, ha! Brother!"
What Jutas said through gritted teeth made Christen, who was also angry, lower his head dejectedly.
"You have taken the wrong path, my brother. Even if you hate me, those Astra Militarum are innocent. And the instinct flowing in our blood does not allow us to kill each other."
"So what? I'm not fighting you with my own hands, and neither are my brothers. The shelling from orbit will make you suffer for a long enough time."
Jutas said happily.
"That won't destroy us!" Kristen struggled to lift his head up, and his bloody eyes struggled to open and look at Jutas:
"When I knew you were coming, I had already ordered my brothers to find underground fortifications! If you want to destroy us, your hands must be stained with our blood!"
"No need!" Jutas interrupted Christen and said:
"This black ship of the Tribunal has been controlled by my people. You don't know what kind of things are on it, right?"
"You! No, you won't succeed!"
Kristen was first shocked and angry, then relieved. The corners of his cracked mouth raised with difficulty, and he managed to smile:
"My adjutant, our champion swordsman will stop your plot!"
"Your adjutant? Isn't that still on the ground? Are you burned out? My dear Kristen?"
Jutas laughed and walked out. He didn't want to pay attention to this man who had lost his mind.
No matter how great the hatred is, after today, it can all be written off with Jutas.
As long as the two companies of the Goliath Chapter here die, even if it is to silence others, the Inquisition will never allow anyone to survive on their home planet.
"Confused? Maybe, hehe...hehe...hehe..."
Kristen lowered his head again and whispered to himself, while his eyes looked towards the distant bow of the ship.
On the aviation deck there, there is the Thunderhawk assault boat he came on, as well as the last hope of their battle group.
The colors that the human eye can recognize are limited, and so are Astartes.
Even after the transformation surgery, the eyes of the Astartes have one more type of cone cells than normal humans, and can recognize one more primary color and ultraviolet light.
But the extra primary color cells can only provide the Astartes warriors with about dozens of additional visible colors.
So the colors they can see are just more, but not infinite.
Then the question arises, after experiencing the extreme army building and the previous army building operations, until today in the 39th millennium, how many battle groups have appeared in the armed sequence of the empire?
The answer is that there is no exact number.
So put this question aside and just think about it. If every established war group has to choose a color as the main color of the power armor, will the colors within the visible range of their eyesight be enough?
The answer is no, the number of Astartes Chapters established by the Empire far exceeds the number of visible colors of these superhuman warriors.
Therefore, there must be some battle groups whose power armor is painted in the same color, and the difference between them can only be distinguished by the battle group's logo and decoration.
Coincidentally, the two Astartes Chapters located in the Federman System at this time are the victims of this situation.
The paint colors chosen between the two battle groups are exactly the same, and the only differences are the armor on the torso and the decoration on the shoulder armor.
This gave the champion swordsman who had been hiding in Captain Christen's Thunderhawk a chance.
After he received the news that Captain Christen had been imprisoned, he automatically started the mission he had been given before boarding the ship with the Captain:
"Once things change, try to destroy all the armament of the ship as much as possible to buy time for the brothers on the ground to hide."
In fact, Augustine did exactly this. His concealment remained until the first round of light spears was shot to the surface.
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When the light lance on the top of the ship starts shooting towards the surface after being charged; when these high-energy lasers penetrate the void and the unique resonance of the atmosphere is transmitted to the apron on the deck, the rear cabin of the Thunderhawk assault boat
In a dark corner, a pair of killer eyes have been activated and opened.
There is no power armor, no weapons. But the body and will of the unarmed champion swordsman are themselves a masterpiece of the Emperor.
His danger will not be weakened by the lack of these external objects.
Any contempt for the naked 2.4-meter tall man in front of you will cost you your life.
The two As-Ata who are malicious warriors in front of me are one of them.
When Augustine lurked from the tarmac with a feminine pace like a cat, the first thing he passed on the way to the weapon array of the Heart of Honor was the large lifting workshop.
This is not only the repair and modification site for large-scale equipment on the spacecraft, but also the final maintenance and delivery point for large-scale delivery devices.
Coincidentally, in the hall of this black ship, which was not usually used and where there were not many people in the past, there was currently a large group of slave workers busy working under the instructions of the technical staff.
They were activating the warhead program before delivering a secondary virus bomb, repeatedly confirming and adjusting parameters.
The two Astartes warriors standing high and pointing are all the supervisors of the Malicious Warriors for this task.
Augustus, who had just jumped out of the apron, was at the farthest end of the malicious warrior's sight like a cat, stuck in the blind spot of the opponent's vision, and jumped into the messy pile of maintenance tools in the corner of the hall.
Augustine silently calculated the number of the most threatening units on the scene.
He licked his lips that were chapped from not drinking water for 48 hours, and smiled silently.
Such a task is not difficult according to the criteria for selecting champions within the battle group that he has experienced.
In five minutes, three visual deceptions and two visual blind spots, Augustine, who was sweating profusely due to the intense use of his muscles, had already reached the feet of these two malicious warriors.
He gasped quietly and restrainedly, but a smile appeared on the corners of his mouth.
In his eyes, these two Astartes warriors who had relaxed their vigilance were only one well-timed surprise attack away from death.
The rest will be left to time, it won’t be too long, it won’t be too long...
－－－－－－Digression－－－－－－
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