"Sir!"
"I need you to send a muster signal to every Expeditionary Fleet. Highest priority."
Expeditionary Fleet, Light-Chasing Holy Fire battlecruiser.
Within the Astropathic Hall, as grand as an opera house, Orlando was submitting a solemn request to the Astropathic Master.
"Forgive my frankness, my lord, but if we send this message, the Expeditionary Fleet will no longer retain the capacity for long-range astropathic communication."
The Astropathic Master leading the entire choir replied.
"Is the intelligence in your possession truly urgent enough to warrant such a price from the fleet?"
He was not afraid. He was merely stating the gravity of the situation.
"Yes!"
Orlando answered solemnly.
Compared to an Inquisitor, he showed this Astropathic Master ample respect. Within the Black Templars, who fanatically worshipped the Emperor as a god, only Navigators and Astropaths who had looked upon the Emperor and endured His trials could earn their respect.
Thus, the Black Templars had always treasured the lives of these masters.
But the current situation was too severe.
Orlando recalled those Elders who had commanded over a hundred Sharks and effortlessly wiped out more than five hundred Drukhari. The hundred white-haired veterans bore mottled marks across faces as hard as stone, more terrifying than the medals of active Space Marines.
He knew he could never persuade those Elders to turn back and abandon their honor. If anyone dared say such a thing to him, Orlando would not hesitate to smash that person's head apart with the power hammer in his hand.
Persuade that group of living fossils to avoid battle? The moment he opened his mouth, the old veterans would probably stuff him into a torpedo tube and fire him into the heart of Chaos as a human shell.
But that Chaos sacrificial ritual involving five trillion people was likely not