The Gray Tempest strike craft pierced the atmosphere, reaching geostationary orbit.
Two gravitationally captured asteroids orbited Faya.
Deeply sentimental about their homeland, the people of Faya called them the First Moon and the Second Moon, though they were actually far smaller than a real moon.
In terms of volume, they were smaller than the Gray Tempest mothership Grey Wind had transformed into.
The mothership’s hangar doors were already open.
Threading through the orbital debris belts, the strike craft carried Russell safely into the hangar.
The moment the hangar doors sealed, Russell heard Grey Wind’s familiar, soft voice:
“The Admiral came aboard without saying a word.”
“What did you expect? Did you want me to sing ‘Little Rabbit, Open the Door’?” Russell was rather exasperated by Grey Wind’s teasing.
“If you’re willing to sing, I’d certainly love to listen.”
There was a hint of amusement in Grey Wind’s voice, though she quickly reined it in, her tone shifting to a flat, serious inquiry:
“What was that lie you told the humans down there about? And… this place is very strange. While parked in high orbit, I sent out drones to perform a basic scan of this planet. I must say, it is baffling.”
It was clearly a feudal, aristocratic agrarian civilization, yet it possessed a vast amount of infrastructure and advanced technology far beyond its era.
There were even numerous starports hidden inside caves and beneath harbors, housing interstellar vessels that an agrarian civilization could never have built.
Furthermore, the designs of those vessels were entirely different from those of the Commonwealth of Man or the United Nations of Earth in her database.
It made her wonder if these were actually human ships at all.
“How should I put this? Humans are indeed humans, just not the ones you know.”
Russell thought for a moment.
Believing it was best to keep his bluffs to a minimum with Grey Wind, he decided to tell her some objective truths.
“To be precise, this is a parallel universe—similar to our home in broad strokes, yet completely different in the details. The dominant human faction in this galaxy is called the Imperium, which is currently in a state of terminal decline. In terms of physical laws, I haven’t noticed any major conflicts. Of course, this universe also has psionics and the Shroud—which the locals call the Warp. But the Warp here is infinitely more terrifying than the Shroud of our home…”
Russell gave Grey Wind a brief, verbal summary of what he knew about the Warhammer universe.
He talked until his throat was dry.
Fortunately, Grey Wind was attentive, and a nanite mechanical arm soon extended to hand him a glass of water.
The strike craft had powered down in the hangar.
Holding the glass of water, Russell sat on the wing, looking around to inspect the hangar’s interior structure while waiting for Grey Wind to process the information.
After a long silence, Grey Wind’s voice finally drifted through the hangar: “Admiral, I want to go home…”
*To be honest, so do I…
This hammer of a universe is no place for a human.*
Russell silently drained the glass in one gulp.
The empty cup instantly collapsed, dissolving into countless nanites that slipped through his fingers and vanished into the floor.
Grey Wind’s voice sounded pathetic and pitiable enough to tug at one’s heartstrings, bordering on a display of childish petulance, but all in all, her reaction was within his expectations.
The overriding theme of the Warhammer universe was tragedy—a raw, absolute tragedy devoid of even a sliver of hope, difficult to summarize in mere words.
“Before we can find a way to break through the dimensional barrier, we must secure a foothold here and ensure our own safety.”
Russell pulled off the white ceremonial robe he was wearing.
Though it looked holy, it was highly impractical for physical movement.
Leaping down onto the floor in just his shirt, he said, “Grey Wind, let’s go inspect the Relics you brought over.”
“Yes, Admiral!” Grey Wind responded, brimming with energy.
*So that pitiful act earlier really was just a show…* Russell thought, thoroughly amused.
The bulkhead door of the hangar took a moment to open as Grey Wind pressurized the corridor.
As a nanite hive mind, she had no need to breathe, and her ship’s interior was normally kept in a vacuum.
But Russell was still flesh and blood; he required oxygen and simulated gravity.
Moved by the sight, he murmured to himself:
“The flesh is weak…”
“Metal and stone decay~” Grey Wind chimed in playfully.
“Psionics are fleeting.”
“And quantum is eternal!”
Russell smiled.
His twenty-four long years of wandering in a foreign world had brought him here, where he finally had someone with whom he could share a fraction of his true thoughts.
Even if that connection was still draped in a layer of deception.
Stepping through the open bulkhead into the corridor, Russell followed Grey Wind’s guidance toward the resource vault deep within the ship’s interior.
His footsteps were somewhat heavy.
The simulated gravity Grey Wind provided was set to a 1:1 standard based on “Unity,” the homeworld of the Commonwealth of Man, which was similar to Earth.
Faya, where he had lived for twenty-four years, was much smaller than Unity, with significantly lower gravity.
As they walked, Grey Wind’s voice echoed in his ear once more:
“Based on our current situation, I suggest you defrost the hibernating Prethoryn Brood-Queen.”
“We currently lack the infrastructure to manufacture starships. However, as long as we provide sufficient food, the Brood-Queen can spawn a powerful swarm fleet in a very short time, securing your safety, Admiral.”
She paused, then added: “As for the source of food… if we count the entire planetary population of Faya, it should be just about enough.”
Strictly speaking, if Grey Wind simply ceased maintaining her current warship form and disassembled into countless nanites, they would instantly possess tier-one industrial production capabilities.
But doing so would be tantamount to suicide for Grey Wind.
The limit of her self-division was a small land army; any further, and she would lose her sense of self, reverting once more into a mindless Gray Tempest that attacked everything indiscriminately.
Neither Russell nor Grey Wind could accept that outcome.
From this perspective, the proposal to thaw the Brood-Queen and breed a swarm fleet was undoubtedly highly rational.
The only issue was—this was the Warhammer universe.
“Vetoed. We cannot deploy the swarm fleet for the time being.”
“Why?” Grey Wind was puzzled.
“Because in this universe, there exists a swarm highly similar to the Prethoryn of our home. The Imperium refers to them as the Tyranid Swarm, or the Great Devourer. Every living being in this universe views them as a mortal enemy.”
Russell explained, “The moment our breeding of a swarm fleet is discovered by other factions, we will face a joint offensive from every race in the galaxy—including the Necrons.”
He added, “In a sense, the Necrons are no weaker than the Fallen Empires we know. In some aspects, they might even be stronger.”
For example, when they succumb to the madness of the Flayer virus.
Grey Wind was convinced.
“I understand, Admiral. But you should have shared such vital information with me sooner…”
Had she known of the Tyranids and Necrons beforehand, she wouldn’t have made the mistake of suggesting they wake the Brood-Queen.
Russell felt equally helpless.
The factions and relationships in the Warhammer universe were far too numerous and tangled.
Explaining it all in one go would take too much time, so he had to keep it simple.
“I will find the time to give you a detailed breakdown of this world and its geopolitics. For now, we must hurry.”
As Russell spoke, he quietly quickened his pace.
“The Brood-Queen is out of the question for now. But to quickly unify planet Faya and bend its population to my will, I need to activate another Relic.”