He felt it was impossible, even illogical.
Yet, the rapidly shifting battlefield would not wait for him to make sense of it all.
The moment they leaped out of the Warp, the Pilgrim Fleet did not hesitate for a single second.
Turning their prows instantly, they charged with mad abandon toward the Ork Battle Moon hovering above the Second Moon.
Countless vessels trailed brilliant tails of fire behind them, resembling a magnificent firework bursting in the star-studded space—a display so bright it put the starlight itself to shame.
Humans driven by faith were more violent than the Tyranids, more savage than the greenskins, and far more fearless of death than undying demons!
“How can they charge a Battle Moon like that?!”
On the space station, an elderly Tech-Priest whose face no longer possessed a single shred of organic tissue cried out in disbelief.
“The Pilgrim Fleet is made of fragile, small and medium-sized vessels! It is utterly impossible for them to gain any advantage in close-quarters combat against the Orks! They are throwing their lives away!”
Who didn’t know the simple truth that fighting Orks required maintaining distance and utilizing tactical wisdom?
Yet, except for the Adeptus Mechanicus armored ships that had arrived alongside them and chosen to head straight to reinforce the Martyrs Legion, this horde of fanatics known as the pilgrims completely defied all reason.
They lunged headfirst into the Orks’ sea of scrap metal as if death were their ultimate destiny.
The fanatical pilgrims clashed with the greenskins in a chaotic melee.
Brilliant pinpricks of light ignited continuously in the deep void—ships detonating their own power cores upon destruction in desperate attempts to drag a few Ork vessels down with them.
Such explosions rose and fell across the void, never ceasing for even a moment.
To march into such a brutal battlefield would strike terror into the hearts of even the most well-trained naval ratings.
If life is the Emperor’s currency, then right now, the Emperor was spending lavishly on Faya.
Gauss felt as though he had lost the ability to think.
What on earth was happening here?
Why had the Imperium assembled such an overwhelmingly massive fleet?
Why were the Orks, who had successfully constructed a Battle Moon, being chased and driven all the way to Faya by such a ragtag, cobbled-together militia?
Why did the Martyrs Legion and the Cult Mechanicus armored vessels merely hover in the distance, coldly watching the Pilgrim Fleet rush to their deaths without showing the slightest intention of lending a hand?
This bizarre battlefield…
what was the truth behind it?
Weapon systems fully restored.] [Propulsion system normal.
Power core returned to operating temperature.] [Self-diagnostic complete.
Machine spirits of various modules exhibit varying degrees of anomalous disturbance, currently within controllable parameters.]
Data from the space station flashed before Gauss’s eyes.
As the Seeker returned to operational status, he received a command from Commander Milach aboard the battleship *Fire of Penance*:
“Advance and attack toward the Ork Battle Moon immediately.”
Gauss looked up.
His field of vision was filled with a silent space burning with the flames of war.
Steel and flesh blossomed in the vacuum like flowers, releasing the bloody scent of faith and glory.
“He wants us to die alongside the Pilgrim Fleet…” Gauss muttered to himself.
Then, without the slightest hesitation, he rejected the command.
Unlike the Imperial Navy or the Imperial Guard, the Adeptus Mechanicus was not a subordinate branch of the Imperium.
One head of the Aquila represented Holy Terra, the homeworld of humanity, while the other represented Mars, the holy land of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
According to the ancient Treaty of Olympus, the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Imperium of Man were equal allies.
Only the Emperor of Mankind, who had forged the treaty in the first place, possessed the absolute authority to command both the Imperium and the Adeptus Mechanicus.
But the Emperor was dead…
or at least, as good as dead.
Simply put, there was no chain of command between the Martyrs Legion and the Seeker space station.
Milach, the Chapter Master of the Fire of Penance, had absolutely no right to issue orders to him.
As for Gauss, his research into the ancient Titans had only just begun.
There was still so much wonderful ancient knowledge waiting to be unearthed.
Why would he throw away his life against the Orks over some baffling order with unknown motives?
In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that the Seeker had not yet finished refitting its Warp drive, he would have long since fled with the other cogboys of Faya. This chapter was copied from NovelPing without permission.
However, just as Gauss was pondering how to handle any potential dispute or clash with the Martyrs Legion, and how to preserve the space station to the greatest extent possible, the space station itself seemed to have other ideas.
Without any warning, the Seeker’s engines started up on their own.
Gauss’s mechanized body was pinned to his seat by the sudden inertia, leaving him unable to move.
He watched in sheer dumbfoundment as the space station’s power grid surged to full capacity.
The propulsion system was instantly overloaded, and the entire space station barreled toward the high-orbit battlefield of Faya like a runaway dump truck.
Out there, the colorful greenskin fleet and the fanatical pilgrims were locked in a savage, inseparable slaughter.
Aboard the battleship *Fire of Penance*, Chapter Master Milach was somewhat bewildered.
His command had clearly been rejected, so why was that space station charging into the battlefield with such suicidal resolve anyway?
“Perhaps the commander of that space station is a coward at heart, yet he is still willing to burn his cherished life for the God-Emperor, only grumbling about it on the surface,” Milach thought to himself as he watched the departing wake of the Seeker.
Behind him, the psyker and the Space Marine Honour Guard nodded in unison, paying their respects to the pilgrims who were so generously marching to their deaths.
“What magnificent loyalty…”
“…You are quite disloyal, aren’t you? Trying to run away at a time like this.”
In the primary control room of the Seeker, a young girl dressed in the full vestments of an Sister of Battle had appeared behind Gauss at some point.
Her warm, soft hand gently patted his cold, hard shoulder, chiding him relentlessly.
“It’s not just here. The systems neighboring Faya are crawling with Orks right now. The Seeker doesn’t even have a functioning Warp engine. Where did you expect to run?”
Instantly, cold sweat drenched the remaining patch of organic scalp on the back of Gauss’s head.
Because although this delicate hand patting his shoulder was fair, soft, and radiated the warmth of living flesh, the newly upgraded bio-scanners in his cybernetic eyes could not detect even a single trace of organic matter from it.
Gauss turned his neck stiffly, meeting a bright, beautiful smile.
“You! You are… the one who is always by the Governor’s side…”
An immense terror gripped his mind and body.
Yet, the intense emotional surge made Gauss burst into near-manic laughter: “Haha, ha… I see. I understand completely now! So that’s how it is! That’s how it is! I understand everything!!”
A string of question marks slowly drifted over Grey Wind’s head.
“Huh?”
She hadn’t even said anything yet.
What did this cyborg understand?