Chapter 292: Bad Memory but Good Predictions

The cruiser of the 3rd Company of the Origin Chapter was hovering tens of thousands of kilometers away from the Cursed Echo, like a patient little carnivore, small but cunning and methodical in dealing with its prey.

Her captain was Sergeant Aeneas, the highest officer in their company assigned to lead the remaining squad as a garrison, and also commanded everyone on the cruiser, meticulously following the provisions and tactical arrangements of the Astartes Codex for such situations.

So far, all combat situations are developing in accordance with some of the situations described in the Codex - most of them.

"Haven't we been able to contact them yet?"

"We are really a bit far away, Lord Aeneas." The Lord of Communications replied.

"Where is the regular life identification signal? Lord of the Auspicious Instrument."

"Lord Ptolemyon's signal transmitter is still working normally at normal power, sir. The signals of others are not very clear, but judging from the situation, they are probably still there."

This is a bit strange. Although those traitorous scum are like a pile of loose sand and can be easily defeated one by one, they are usually not so lax. After all, they are not attacking some hedonistic warband of the Emperor's Children, but the descendants of the Night Ghost. These evil and dark beasts have stinky claws but sharp claws.

"How is the subsequent boarding team organized?"

"Two boarding torpedoes are fully loaded and ready to be launched at any time, my lord."

"How is the void shield in condition?"

"All generators are working properly."

"What about the light spears and other weapons?"

"They can enter the final charging stage at any time, my lord."

It can't be launched yet, Aeneas thought, Ptolemyon and his men may still be alive, or even optimistically, since the Origin Chapter can be said to have completely mastered the initiative of the ambush this time, their champion brothers may have completed the mopping-up work of their team and will soon occupy the bridge deck of the ancient traitor warship and send them a victory communication.

He thought for a moment, during which the beacon signal on Ptolemyon's armor was received again, indicating that it and its owner's data were still functioning normally.

"After twenty countdowns, launch the boarding torpedoes at the target."

Aeneas said.

——————

"Respected Lord of the Night."

After the work assigned to him was temporarily finished, the first person to speak was Bishop Ditrian, who currently theoretically worked for the "Prophet" Talos.

As a former member of the researchers on Mars, most of Bishop Ditrian's body has been replaced with a nearly perfect structure composed of metal and machinery over the past so many years. He has always been proud of this, and out of a simple, objective, and absolutely rational concept, he believes that letting them be affected by the warp is absolutely harmful to maintaining its appearance and working condition.

So this is why he still proudly wears the rust-red Ohm Messiah robe like the Martian soil no matter where he is, and can win a precious quiet and peaceful working environment with his own abilities in any bad environment (not because he also has his own small boat, a group of assistants, and a large group of heavily armed servitors and drones).

The pale giant who heard him speak uttered a meaningless monosyllable from his throat that resembled a careless inquiry.

"Ummm?"

He pulled the cable that served as a belt around the waist of his red robe hard. Dietrian was extremely distressed to see several new wrinkles appear on his "requisitioned" red robe, making the robe that was originally carefully ironed flat begin to become a little wrinkled. Now he was wearing his spare robe, which was not as suitable as the original one. His assistant, the priest named "Absolute Gap", ran back to get it for him. Dietrian decided to add an extra 120 minutes of patience survival time to this assistant who had been repeatedly testing his patience.

"My Highness," the bishop chose his words carefully. Although he had cooperated with the Legion for several centuries, after witnessing many events, Dietrian was not so sure whether the sacred covenant between Mars and the Astartes Legion would be affirmed and executed by this highness who had been recorded as dead, and the extent of execution. "I want to know why we are doing this?"

He raised his slender mechanical fingers and pointed at the power armors that were temporarily stuffed into his workshop, which were so beautiful in quantity and completeness that made him dizzy. How many usable parts and spare parts can be modified from these! Maybe he can also secretly get some to exchange for precious resources that have been out of stock for a long time when there is a chance.

Their original owners have been dragged out and locked in the slave cells or empty interrogation rooms on the lower floors. The beautiful and ancient armor in front of them is the precious treasure that originally belonged to Ptolemyon, the champion of the Origin Chapter. Now it is full of probes and cables to deceive the machine spirit inside and make the transmitting beacon send out a false message that everything is fine.

"What else do you want to do?" His Highness Conrad Curze asked in his poetic voice.

Mars Flame, he even sounded almost interesting and rational. The Mechanical Bishop thought, "I have detected the problem with the void shield before and temporarily restored it, but it is still on the verge of overload and may fall at any time. I think we should prioritize going to the scene to check and repair the external launch tower. If you allow, I want a team of Astartes guards to go on the outside of the hull with me for repairs."

"Oh, this, I remember it, wait a minute."

(*Your memory is really bad, I have shown you at least twice how he repaired and the scenes during the repair. How can you have such a brain?)

"Have you always had a good memory? Come on, show me."

(*…My memory is very good! This is the last time I show it to you!)

“You can’t even figure out whether Sevatar is dead or alive in the end—that’s because you couldn’t remember it before, a good memory is not as good as a bad pen,” Ramizarn, who was talking to himself in the void, turned his head suddenly, and all the lenses on the metal face of the mechanical bishop trembled together, “Do you have paper and pen?”

Dietrian looked at the other party blankly, his brain chip quickly searched the database for the meaning and metaphor of “paper and pen” in the cultural vocabulary of the 176 civilized worlds he knew, until the person in front of him noticed the data board for surveying and mapping on the side of his belt.

“This one will work too!”

The mechanical bishop’s waist was empty, and the data board was already in the other party’s hand.

“Your Highness, please wait, that requires my personal secret…”

The mechanical bishop’s loudspeaker suddenly disconnected, and he was shocked to feel that all the machine souls and codes in the data board and the password holy box were cheering to welcome the other party’s inspection.

"Ah, okay, that's it. I've got it memorized. Here you go."

(*I won't show you next time if you give it to me. You'd better remember it this time.)

"You've got it memorized, haven't you? You just said 'I have a very good memory'. Why, you didn't?"

(*... (some angry hissing threats and curses))

When Dietrian began to carefully read the contents of the data board, he found that it contained all the damage to the three external transmission towers he was originally planning to repair, the specific situation, the response measures and materials required, and the details and familiarity with the materials and heavy engineering servitors. It was as if...

It was as if... Dietrian himself made a decision based on the situation on the scene after arriving at the scene.

It even specified which servitors were needed to deal with which transmission tower.

But the Night King could not have known all the servitor numbers in the maintenance engineering team of a subordinate mechanical bishop before.

This was very crazy and illogical.

The mechanical bishop, who had seen those powerful wizards and the most famous prophets, began to fall into a click-click calculation and contemplation.

It is impossible for anyone to completely and accurately detail a prophecy event to such an extent.

This is just like someone telling you that 1+1 can always, only, and absolutely equal 2.

"How is it." Seeing Dietrian fall silent, Rami Zane asked again, "Are these enough for you to send them to deal with it? I need you to do another thing for me here."

"Enough." After recovering from the impact of the data stream, Dietrian recalled the ancient etiquette and bowed deeply to the person in front of him, "As you command, Your Highness."

"Great, then I need you now..."