Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 136
"All residents have been evacuated," Roger Dorn said.

Looking down at the icy planet from the Phalanx, some tiny black dots are scattered like scattered black pearls, symbolizing the laying of construction bases and temporary settlements.With the last team of transport trucks parked at the resettlement site, all obstacles to construction except natural conditions have been eliminated.

Construction equipment from the Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors were in position in the pits, and some that were progressing quickly enough had already started.The second step they will take is to demolish some of the old buildings that are no longer suitable for this era.

As for the first step that has been completed, it is to relocate residents from their residences to temporary housing on the ground using various methods ranging from comfort and adequate compensation to discretionary bottom line.

"The habit of building settlements around energy towers does not need to change," Perturabo said, placing a general concept diagram in one of the Phalanx's urgently repaired rooms. “This feature will be preserved.”

The Iron Warriors were unwilling to let the Primarch sit in a dilapidated room without even a chandelier, so a whole ring of fluorescent lights was set on the edge of the ceiling of this circular room. The huge dome was filled with gold-rimmed square pieces, with regular squares in the middle. The bright screen simulates the blue sky, like a palace where all gods live.

The newly made tabletop is covered with a transparent plate on top of the relief. The relief content is a top-down view of a gorgeous circular palace supported by twenty Corinthian columns, creating the impression that the mortal palace is less than half the height of the Primarch. , the visual effects and grand significance being observed and controlled by the Primarchs.

"Is it true that no one wants to listen to my suggestion of building a maze of concentric circles?" Morse shook his head and leaned on the armrest of his floating seat. "pity."

"We can consider it when Inwit has the resources to build an ice and snow park." Roger Dorn looked at Morse seriously and said, inadvertently cutting off Perturabo who was about to refuse.

The latter glared at Donne unhappily, and Donne successfully noticed his look this time: "Is there a problem, my brother?"

"No," said Perturabo, "but the Iron Warriors will not be involved in the construction of the maze."

"I'll make a note of that," Dorn said. "Perturabo, do you think the construction progress of the Imperial Fists is satisfactory to you? I still cannot estimate from my limited experience the reasonable working speed of the Astartes warriors."

"Satisfied?" Perturabo snorted. "It's just crazy. You'd better tell them to slow down."

"Using my personal work routine as a reference," Dorn said, "requiring four hours of rest every twenty hours will satisfy their cycle of physiological needs."

"Why do my soldiers report to me that they only rest every 42 hours?" Perturabo asked. "In order to match or even reserve work progress, my descendants now work continuously for close to 45 hours."

"Only a few bases reported to me that their continuous working hours exceeded thirty hours, and in the reports, my soldiers said that they need to work harder to catch up with their cousin's advanced progress." Dorn answered. "I will not prevent my team from taking the initiative to increase work intensity within physiological limits. This is a reflection of a good mental state."

"I hope you are not suggesting that my heir is lying to me."

"That's not what I meant. I think there's a calculation error. Is Inwit's hour the same as your usual timing?"

"The same, no doubt." Perturabo's face showed no expression. "When we first discovered that a large amount of data was scrapped due to small deviations in the measurement units, I confirmed the unity of the remaining measurement units."

I don’t know whether it was the loss of data caused by spending the old night, or the deformation of materials caused by the extremely cold temperature, because some of Witte’s unit scales have a thousandth of a percent error compared to Terra’s standard unit scales, so the two almost quarreled again. got up.

At that time, Dorn decisively chose to shut up, and then the two of them turned their backs and took out the data stick and inserted it into the data board. They described the situation in purely logical terms and transmitted it to each other. They successfully resolved the misunderstanding efficiently before an unnecessary quarrel broke out, and by the way Using the opportunity to rework a large amount of data, we tested the comparison of the computing power of the newly repaired large cogitator on the mountain formation and the two primarchs.

Morse relies on the micro-runes on his fingertips to vibrate the air. In a sense, the snapping sound he makes is indeed made by his two fingers wrapped in black cloth.

"How often do you two receive reports?" Morse asked. "Every four days," said Perturabo.

"Every seven days," Dorn replied. "Did you choose four days because your Legion is numbered four, my brother?"

"No, it's because I heard that Gutera worked four days a week," Perturabo said. "It seems that the continuous working hours of our respective descendants are increasing every day."

"Exactly, Primarchs." Morse shrugged. "I suspect that the continuous working hours they reported were calculated from the last break to the time they reported to you. At least I can confirm that the tower crane on the construction site has exceeded eighty hours. No more stopping.”

Rogal Dorn's light eyes were filled with thoughts: "So this is the working attitude of the Imperial Army? I understand, Invite will move closer to the Empire."

"No, it's definitely because Wit has influenced them," Perturabo called his war blacksmith with a gesture, "Let each team leader immediately report on the work status, including progress, difficulties, the internal atmosphere of the team, and average daily working hours. "

Dorn's bodyguards are still currently served by local mortals from Inwit. Considering the combat effectiveness gap between the original body and mortals, his mortal bodyguards are more like a group of busy clerks.

"Wright," he called a rather young woman, "ask the person in charge of each base to report on the situation, including progress, difficulties, legion atmosphere, and working hours, and adjust the reporting cycle to once every four days."

Then Dorn added to Perturabo: "I like your choice of words, which reflects your serious and accurate character."

Perturabo touched his tongue to his teeth and ignored Dorn's additional explanation without changing his expression.

"They are competing with each other," the Iron Lord said. "My heirs, and your heirs."

"Competition is the stone of survival." The giant who grew up in the ice and snow replied.

"This is an unnecessary contest," said Perturabo as calmly as possible. "Will it lead to conflict?"

"No," Dorn's expression remained as focused as stone, "This is the Imperial Fists' way of repaying the Iron Warriors. We cannot allow you to consume strength in Invite for a long time. I support them in catching up with progress within their capabilities." .”

"Repay? We do nothing but what is required by our duties under the Emperor's banner." Perturabo shook his head. His black hair, which had recently been trimmed short for convenience, no longer swayed with his movements. "Don't measure us by rewards." will."

"I don't think milkshakes, cookies, and nuts are required by duty." Dorn's unchanging tone will show different effects in different situations. For example, now, his calmness will be interpreted as sincerity. "It's extra giving."

"The favor of a few cookies and a legion of overtime," Morse quipped, "that's an equal exchange. I support it."

"Only your moral standards will support it, Morse," said Perturabo. "I'd better go on a field trip. Is there anyone with me?"

Dawn stood up. "good."

(End of this chapter)