Chapter 36: There Are Good Things on the Ark

A sigh—laden with nearly ten thousand years of melancholy.

Ramesses frowned. "Did you all hear that?"

"Huh?"

The three turned their heads in confusion, only to notice the priests and nuns nearby beginning their prayers, accompanied by the holy light shimmering upon their own armor.

"...Never mind."

They all understood what was happening. It was just Old Man Huang having another one of his episodes.

Romulus said nothing more. He had simply wanted to drop a subtle hint to Ramesses not to go off-script, but since the man already had the self-awareness to avoid such things, it made him feel a bit awkward. It was fortunate they all knew each other so well; otherwise, it might have come across as an "arrogant lecture."

"I was overthinking. My apologies," Romulus offered an honest apology.

Truth be told, Romulus sincerely believed that the greatest gift they, the four transmigrators, had received since arriving in this world was not just their miraculous abilities, but a heart that remained in awe of everything in this universe. This instilled a profound sense of security in him. The mere thought of having someone who constantly messed up or provided false intelligence was enough to fill him with despair.

"So, do we move now?" Arthur drew his sword cleanly. The black blade, still clinging to the remnants of holy light, drew the attention of the priest. Since the interrogation began, his gaze had drifted toward this sword time and again.

"Wait a moment, I need some time," Romulus removed his helmet and rubbed his hair, which had collected moisture from the temperature difference.

"What time?"

"Heaven knows the first operation would be a high-speed assault," Romulus gritted his teeth. "I have to re-equip forty Iron Riders one by one."

One had to understand that Terminator armor could not be donned without assistance, let alone taken off.

"Correction: excluding Arthur and Karna, who are also assigned to the assault mission, that makes thirty-seven. You can save yourself three sets," Ramesses said with a gloating smile.

"Take your numerology and shove it."

"Hahaha, no thanks." Ramesses pressed his luck.

"Right, Arthur," Romulus said, ignoring his foolish "son" while continuing to re-equip the Iron Riders. "Pass the news the priest gave us to the Sharks. Tell them we have a way to grab the Dark Eldar by the tail, and ask them to prepare one hundred and thirty men for a joint assault, though we must take command."

He naturally had no intention of disturbing Tyberos directly; a Chapter Master had his pride when out in the field, and if he were ordered around, there would be no point in him remaining.

"Karna, go help me transport another ship of men. Also, notify the Sharks that we will clear a space on this ship. I need to run a simulation to check for loopholes and maximize our success rate." Romulus studied the map of the occupied areas of the Craftworld.

"Doesn't that mean you'll have to re-equip even more sets?"

"If I have to, I have to. Being tired is better than people dying."

"Fair enough."

The two nodded and immediately split up to act.

"Akia."

In a deserted corner, Arthur, clad in jet-black armor, approached the Third Captain of the Carcharodons. As a Reaper among the Space Sharks, negotiating with Imperial forces was a duty this company had to shoulder, and as captain, Akia was naturally included.

Arthur did not remove his Cataphractii Terminator armor; at their level, the speed restrictions imposed by the plate were negligible.

"Lord Arthur." Akia looked at the empty surroundings, assuming there was a secret to be shared. Once the area was confirmed clear, Arthur relayed the message from Romulus, intending for Akia to pass it on to Tyberos.

Thirty seconds later, Akia walked out of the corridor and returned to the Sharks' ranks, a bloodthirsty smile hidden beneath his helmet. Upon hearing Arthur's words, his instinct was that this mission against the xenos would be impossible, but since the "old guys" said they had a way, there was no reason for them to avoid the fight.

Listening to the hum of the servo-motors within his armor, Akia’s innate warrior spirit caused him to instinctively ignore the strategic details of Romulus's experimental plan—that was not his concern. His muscle fibers twitched, and he squeezed his fist tightly, feeling an itch for violence. He looked at his own armor: Great Crusade-era master-crafted power armor, performance pushed to the limit, with his weapons replaced by superior power axes.

He would definitely hack down a few more xenos this time to sharpen his blades.

Another thirty seconds passed.

Arthur and Karna emerged from the Thunderhawk bay alongside the Space Marines, who had re-equipped their laser muskets. They nodded silently to Romulus and then turned to look at the trading floor, where results had already been reached.

"Following the ancient pact, the Carcharodons shall receive twenty Indomitus-pattern Terminator suits, including spare parts, as well as thirty units of ammunition for all types of bolters, and two hundred bolter weapons of various models. Do you require me to adjust the production line to refit them into power armor?" Archmagos Cawl asked Tyberos, having retracted his mechanical devices, the black box's aperture sealing instantly.

Contrary to the stereotype of the mechanical, robotic speech of the Tech-Priests, Archmagos Cawl’s tone was noticeably more human.

"No need." Tyberos refused flatly. He had been grinding daily tasks recently to build up the Chapter's power armor reserves; they were sufficient for the short term, and the same went for weapons. He could always scrape together more by sparring with Arthur, and teaching what he knew would only serve to improve his own strength.

"Replace all weapons with bolters, explosives, and maintenance tools." He hadn't forgotten that both the Carcharodons and the Deathwatch were short on cheap, basic ammunition.

As for the Indomitus Terminators, they still needed to maintain a stockpile. Although their performance was degraded, their role fit the current combat doctrines of various chapters perfectly. The Iron Riders lacked the physical talent to wear them, making the suits cumbersome, so they weren't suitable for the Sharks, and the Cataphractii were too expensive—it would take over a hundred sets to arm a whole company. Romulus was willing to provide them, but Tyberos lacked the face to accept.

At the very least, he had to serve as a mercenary for these "old guys"—who were likely younger than himself—for a while to pay off the debt before considering anything else.

"Very well." The Archmagos did not object, and several servitors dragged the containers away. "Production capacity requires adjustment. You may return to this warehouse in thirteen hours to collect the cargo."

"Understood." Tyberos acknowledged, showing no intent to haggle.

Romulus frowned as he heard the details of the trade. Two STCs—even if one was for snacks that cured most occupational illnesses of space travel, and the other was for synthesizing functional beverages from conventional elements—shouldn't have been this cheap, considering the high-pressure wartime state of the Empire.

As it turned out, the idea that one STC could be traded for an entire planet was a lie. It was purely a matter of prejudice; the Mechanicus knew that a chapter like the Sharks had no leverage to bargain with them.

And to think, they actually needed to adjust production capacity for such a small order?