Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 556 He can only chirp!
"Your manpower is never enough, and the Lord of Destiny's plans are endless!"

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"Here, this. It's still a little hot, eat it quickly."

Hannah Katzlar squeezed out of the crowd of people who were receiving food and water relief, and handed a round starch pancake with a filling and a bottle of water to Lavs who was waiting for her outside - although she subconsciously described the crowd she had just left in this way based on past experience, it was not a very accurate statement.

To be honest, this area on the deck is crowded with people only during meal time, but the order is very good.

There were no noisy people trying to cut in line and push weaker people down, nor were there the usual lively cliques of strong men with mean eyes.

Everyone waiting in line to receive food and water was moving forward slowly but steadily. There were temporary steel fences between the single lines, which stretched the lines into a long curved shape. Only after the people had received their food and water did the crowd at the exit become slightly crowded in the usual sense, because there were many people like Lafus who were waiting for their companions, or who were trying to exchange some of the "hard currency" they brought with them for food and water, slowing down the pace of those leaving.

Although the number of supply windows did feel a bit on the small side, in the end everyone was able to get their own portion of water and food within each standard Terran day cycle, which was a complete miracle relative to the number of refugees in this huge spaceship - Hannah didn't know how the managers of this magical big spaceship called Enterprise did it. The Phalanx later sent another group of Cadians, and according to that group of people, the daily supply situation of the refugees accommodated by the Phalanx was also okay, but not at all as comfortable as on the Enterprise. The supply of fresh water alone was terribly abundant for a void ship.

You know, the evacuation was so hasty, except for a few highly organized troops, such as the Astartes Adeptus Astartes, who were able to execute their retreat plans relatively well, everyone else rushed onto the spacecraft from various landing points nearby, loading as many as they could and whoever could squeeze in would load on. These people who had just lost their homes had neither undergone large-scale screening and registration, nor had anyone come to verify their identities. It should have been impossible, but that row of so-called "canteen supply windows" were able to accurately give each person's ration according to the amount for adults and children.

As for why there were no vibrant groups or individuals coming to harass others with food and water... She glanced at the Emperor's Angels who were patrolling and maintaining order in the queues, and were responsible for letting people in and out in batches. The bolters in their hands were the reason.

"Thank you, Hannah, I..." Lafus stood up straight and took the food package made of plastic paper. Although he could also queue up with Hannah, because they could go to other area windows to register additional medication and daily necessities for the two of them while queuing, Hannah asked Lafus to register first and then wait for her here, so that they could walk back to their assigned dormitory as quickly as possible.

They were lucky when they finally escaped, and met Captain Helske of the 24th Cadia Guards, who were riding on the armored group of the Silver Skull Regiment to the retreat assembly point. So now their dormitory was also assigned to Captain Helske, which was good. Although as far as she knew, all the comrades Hannah knew had died or been injured in the previous battle, the people of the 24th Regiment were good people and helped them settle down. If Hannah's mother was still alive, she would also be relieved by this.

"Don't say anything. When you recover, it'll be your turn and mine to get the food. Let's talk about it when we get back. Let's eat while walking." She carefully opened the food in her hand. To be honest, she was curious about the powerful allocation and management system that could sustain the daily eating, drinking, defecating and urinating of a population of more than six figures while keeping it clean, but she didn't think too much about it.

Hannah couldn't wait to open the wrapping paper and took a bite. The starch scone that had been baked and then cut in the middle was a little dry, and she choked so much that she quickly took a big gulp of water. But the second bite was much better: in the middle of the scone was meat that smelled of spices, was chopped well, and was fat and lean and soaked in rich soup. It was extremely delicious and still had a little residual heat from the oven. It was so delicious.

Looking around, most of the Cadians were like her, not thinking too much. They ate while walking, so that if the broadcast later announced that their dormitory area needed to organize to perform work tasks - perhaps cleaning, transporting and burning garbage, or helping with patrols or leveling the ground - they could gather together in time.

However, the more knowledgeable a person is, the more he will be horrified or even deeply afraid of what this logistics management and logistics allocation capability represents.

For example, General Conskavan, the Minister of Logistics who also managed to escape, once secretly gave an answer to Creed's inquiry about this matter, that is, he really wanted to know which military academy the Chief Logistics Officer and the Logistics Department here graduated from, and which logistics master they studied under. If possible, he would be willing to worship this master.

Because the current situation is already a perfect logistics operation system that a logistics technical bureaucrat dared not even dream of, "It actually exists! It can actually maintain operation! It can actually start working normally at this scale without lengthy pre-preparation! - The food they supply to everyone from the first day has always been hot! It's hot! It's hot! Creed! Do you know what this means?! I can't believe it! If someone in the empire can do this, why did we lose?! We can't lose! Creed! I don't understand! They should..."

The Lord of the High Castle wisely stopped the Minister of Logistics' excited words because they were too profane and inappropriate.

However, on the upper decks of the Enterprise, where the Astartes and other more noble beings operated, the conversations that took place here could be far more heated, profane, and inappropriate.

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"HONG! SO!!!!"

The Lord of Macragge, the Primarch of the Ultramarines, the Thirteenth Son of the Emperor, the stolen semi-permanent main exhibit of the Hera Fortress, His Highness Robert Guilliman clenched his fists and shouted angrily at a certain back. All the confused and unexpected reinforcements were now temporarily taken away by the experienced Dantioch. Only a few brothers who had not been seen for many years were left in the medical area, one of whom was obviously a little angry.

"Well, although... it is true. I can understand your feelings, Guilliman, but how about postponing your anger for a while?" The Contemptor Fearless said in a slightly different tone of conciliatory speech that Guilliman was once very familiar with, while tightly grasping his arm. "Honso is still treating Pallas. If there is anything, we can talk about it after the treatment is over. You and I are better off listening to the professional advice of the 'Primarch's Personal Pharmacist' in this regard."

"Let me go, you traitor." Guilliman glared. "You and Honsou look familiar. Do not think I will let my guard down just because of the Iron Hands' guarantee."

"Really? Let me remind you that in my world, you are the great betrayer, the murderer of his parents, the eternally cursed Guilliman. I still have the urge to repeat the sword I struck in front of the throne."

This series of terrifying titles and some things that the Fearless Phoenix had told him before made the Lord of the Ultramarines flinch, but it only lasted for a millisecond. He immediately pointed at the person lying inside and said, "But how do you explain this Fulgrim? Isn't he the traitor here? I need a reason that can convince me! Ishtar! Otherwise, I think neither of them should continue to exist. And why can't I take command of this ship? As the Primarch, I have the right to command any ship I board, unless there is someone on the ship with a higher sequence than me or someone who convinces me."

His blue eyes looked distrustfully into Dauntless's eyepieces, "And you, sir, although you have saved my scion and others, and you have attacked our enemies, I cannot fully trust you given who you say you are."

"Pallas... yes and no Fulgrim." The Fearless Phoenix muttered in reply. "Yes is yes, no is no. What do you mean yes and no?" Obviously, this vague answer could not convince the Thirteenth Primarch who was particular about facts.

The mechanical bird sighed, then chirped twice, its golden eyes flickered, and it began to communicate with Dauntless on the internal channel.

"Are you sure?" Fearless said in surprise, "Oh... I'm not sure, but if this is your wish, I will respect it."

Guilliman's eyes shifted suspiciously between the golden Garuda and his brother in the Dreadnaught.

"What other little secrets are there that I should know but they're not letting me know?"

"To be precise..." Fulgrim Ishtar said carefully, "I suggest that you find a seat and sit down before listening?"

“No need.” The Primarch of the Ultramarines straightened his back and folded his arms. “I want to hear what other reasons you have to convince me.”

Contemptor Fearless finally sighed.

Then Mecha-Garuda leaped onto his shoulder and flowing silver liquid metal began to cover and deform, until a voice that Robouti Guilliman never thought he would hear came from the speaker grid.

"—!"

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Honso rubbed his temple.

Strictly speaking, the power armor given to him by his father allows him to work for a long time in emergency treatment and surgical operations without feeling too tired, but this is limited to physical feelings. Mental fatigue is always something that cannot be completely erased.

That's it now.

"I say, what is going on? My Lords, my Lords, I have just stabilized Lord Fulgrim Pallas and started his recovery. Why are you fighting here again? Do you all want to enjoy my medical services equally? I know that my technical level is quite outstanding..."

"Shut up!" said the furious Thirteenth Primarch, who was also rubbing his head, looking like he hadn't recovered from the shock yet. "I'm beginning to wonder if this is just another dream within a dream. This is much more ridiculous than my previous dream of being a champion of enchanted warriors in the Maelstrom and following my betrayed brother's chief captain to shatter Cadia's dream."

"Oh? Really? That's great, perhaps you would like to talk to me about this, sir." The pharmacist pulled out a mental status assessment data tablet and wrote a number at the beginning.

"Do you know?" Guilliman raised his hand, pointing at the Dreadnought opposite him and the mechanical bird on his shoulder. "I have seen with my own eyes what Dorn brought back from the collection room of the Vengeful Spirit - it was the skull of Ferrus, the scars were clearly visible, only bones were left, and we were sure it was him, my poor, respectable, sacrificed brother. He is indeed dead. Like Sanguinius, we did collect the remains of our brothers and returned them to their respective heirs. The soul of Ferrus Manus never appeared or made any sound until I boarded the Pride of the Emperor. They are dead! Betrayed! Deceived! Dead! Our father is imprisoned on the throne and cannot make a sound, and what we have to do is avenge them!"

"Um...so what? My Lord?"

"And now!" The Thirteenth Primarch raised his voice, pointing at the seemingly silent golden Garuda opposite him, "Let's not talk about whether this 'loyal Fulgrim from another universe' is a trap! Now this bird claims to be Ferrus Manus himself, my brother who died ten thousand years ago! A bird! Not in human form! No flesh and blood! Can't even speak with its own voice! He is blaspheming my respected brother! The bird itself can only chirp..."

"Guilliman!" The silver-covered loudspeaker on the Contemptor Dreadnought once again emitted a synthetic voice, resolute, cold, but like a volcano wrapped in magma under a thick layer of rock, with a hint of the same anger and shame. "There is a reason why I can't speak! But I am speaking through the voice machine now! No chirp! Don't you have the judgment to recognize my voice?! Or is your admiration for me all false, and you can't tell whether this is me?"

Both sides glared at each other.

"Perhaps." The third Primarch interrupted through the technique of vocal cord vibration, using a voice that was originally beautiful but now became hoarse. "Well, perhaps the two of you can verify each other through some unknown content that only the two of you know? Since we want to convince Guilliman, then, Ferrus, you should provide some proof. To be honest, this is indeed difficult to accept. His world was overturned too quickly."

Garuda took a deep breath. "Well, you may ask me any questions you like. Guilliman, I hope that by the time I have finished answering you will accept this fact: we have two Fulgrims here, as well as myself, and we have brought with us the combined forces of the Emperor's Children and the Iron Hands."

"Excellent." The Thirteenth Primarch looked solemnly, "I will expose your lies. The first question..."

(End of this chapter)