Chapter 1092 Strong walls and clear fields
Vengeful Spirit
Warmaster's Chamber
A peculiar silence fell over Horus's private meeting room.
On the round conference table inlaid with gold reliefs, the holographic projection showing the scale of the Zerg Hive fleet made everyone fall into a brief state of speechlessness.
The Warmaster himself tapped his fingers unconsciously on the tabletop, the rhythm like some ancient war drum.
"Are you sure this data is correct, Horus?"
Perturabo was the first to break the silence, his cybernetic eyes flashing a dangerous red.
The Lord of Steel dug his fingers deep into the adamantine tabletop, leaving five clear dents.
Mortarion laughed dully from behind his plague mask. "My Legion has confirmed this three times. The number of creatures in this hive fleet... is equal to the combined number of all Tyranid invasion fleets that have invaded the galaxy so far."
The automatic door of the conference room suddenly slid open, breaking the solemn atmosphere.
A warrior in golden power armor stood at the door, his presence making the air heavy.
A thousand guardsmen lined up in silence. They stood in the docking bay of Horus's flagship, their golden armor looking like flowing molten gold under the lights.
The leading shield guard captain took off his helmet, revealing a face as perfect as a marble sculpture.
"Warmaster."
The captain of the Custodians had a voice like a finely tuned musical instrument.
"The Emperor has asked us to come to your aid."
Horus stood up, and his movement caused subtle fluctuations in the gravity field of the conference room.
The moment the Primarch and the Captain of the Custodes looked at each other, invisible sparks seemed to burst in the air.
"Captain Vitellius."
Horus called out the other's name accurately, and this detail made the Imperial Guard's eyebrows slightly raise: "What else did father say?"
Vitellius took out a crystal from the data box on his waist. When it was activated, the shadow of the Emperor appeared in the center of the conference room. Yang Cheng in the holographic image said only one sentence:
"Terra needs all of you to come back alive. The end is coming soon, and I need you."
Perturabo's mechanical eye spun frantically, analyzing every pixel of the holographic image. He suddenly slammed his fist on the table. "Father needs us. Tell Honso to take out all those toys he has!"
Mortarion breathed hoarsely from beneath his plague mask: "Don't worry, Brother Perturabo."
"Father said that there is still some time before the end. This time is enough for us to deal with the threat of the Zerg and the Webway."
"The Imperial Fists are coming to the aid of the Emperor's Children," Vitellius interrupted.
"Brother Dorn is here too?" Horus' expression became extremely complicated.
The Warmaster's fingers passed over the place where the Emperor's image disappeared, and there were still subtle psychic fluctuations there.
When he spoke again, there was some rare emotion in his voice: "Tell me, how is the battle going over there?"
"The Emperor's Children are fighting hard, and the Imperial Fists are on the way to support them." The captain of the Imperial Guards said as he called up new data.
"Their defense will hold out for another 72 hours - if we move at full speed."
As the captain of the Imperial Guards finished his voice, Horus suddenly activated the holographic tactical platform. His fingers wrapped in silver power armor slid quickly in the void, reorganizing the fleet formation.
"We need to advance in three waves: Mortarion's fleet will be responsible for clearing the outer Zerg swarms, Perturabo's fleet will break through the central defense line, and I will lead the Luna Wolves to attack directly and kill the node creatures of this Zerg hive fleet."
........................
Inside the strategic room of the Emperor's Children flagship, the air was as solid as a substance.
Fulgrim stood before the holo-star map, his long fingers hovering over the projection of Harvest III.
This stereoscopic image of the agricultural world is showing real-time data: a population of 843 million and an annual food output that is enough to supply three galaxies.
And around this agricultural world, there are a large number of death worlds, garden worlds, etc.
"Call all planetary governors." The Primarch's voice was like an undercurrent beneath the ice.
The communications director's fingers flew across the console, and thirty seconds later, twelve holograms lit up in the strategy room.
The projections of these rulers had different postures, some were still wearing pajamas, some had panicked staff standing behind them, and the governor of the most remote mining world even had coal dust on his face, obviously he had just been urgently recalled from the mine.
Fulgrim nodded slightly, his face beneath the purple-gold helmet breathtakingly perfect. "Everyone, I regret to interrupt your...daily affairs."
He tapped his fingertips lightly, and the star map suddenly turned scarlet.
Twelve worlds lit up in orbit around the Emperor's Children fleet, with planet-destroying weaponry displayed next to each.
"In 48 hours, these worlds will be ordered to be exterminated." The Primarch's tone was like announcing a change in the banquet menu.
"I suggest you plan your trip properly and don't leave any resources for bugs."
The projection of the Mining Governor suddenly leaned forward: "Sir! It will take us at least three months to-"
“47 hours and 59 minutes.”
Fulgrim interrupted, the holo-clock counting down beside him. "Also, Harvest Three, Siglad Continent Farm, please complete the harvest within 24 hours. The grain..." He gave a creepy smile, "It's best not to leave anything for the bugs."
"Respected Primarch, we have 70% of the transport ships in the entire sector. We can contribute all of them, but can we..."
"Isn't it an honor for you to work for us?"
"Does this require us to claim some financial compensation?"
Fulgrim looked at the trade governor who had asked the question. The latter did not say anything else, but silently wiped his sweat with a handkerchief.
The Governor of the Agricultural World suddenly knelt down, her gorgeous dress spread out on the metal ground: "Great Primarch, at least let the children..."
"Forty-seven hours and thirty minutes," Fulgrim reminded gently.
"Time is running out, ma'am."
"The bugs aren't going to stop turning into biomass just because they're children."
"Remember my orders, take only useful things and military resources."
"Understood, my lord."
As the projections of the eleven governors faded away one after another, Fulgrim remained alone in the strategy room.
He stared at the flashing countdown on the star map, and suddenly reached out to zoom in on the image of Harvest III.
On the screen, countless transport ships took off from the spaceport like a flock of frightened birds.
"Eidolon," the Primarch called without turning back.
The legion commander immediately emerged from the shadows: "Please give your orders."
"Send the Third Company to assist... in the evacuation of certain key facilities." Fulgrim's fingertips slid across several Mechanicus research sites.
"Understood, my lord."
