Ritual Occasion

Fu Qinghai returned to his personal quarters to tidy up a little. He hardly had any personal belongings. Then he went to the laboratory in the lower deck to pick up a few of his DIY projects and say goodbye to Master Kunto.

During their conversation, Fu Qinghai asked if he could take a few of Master Kunto's books, which had been left behind since the Dark Age of Technology. The master flatly refused.

Hmph. Fine, I won't take them. I've already memorized the whole text anyway, Fu Qinghai thought.

Thanks to the partly computerized nature of the Tony Stark Electronic Soul Backup, whenever Fu Qinghai deliberately tried to memorize something, he could almost recall it after a single glance.

His memory worked at a speed comparable to scanning.

Tony Stark at 17% electronic soul integrity might have been inferior to the real Tony Stark in inspiration, talent, creativity, and so on, but there were some computer-specific features that even Tony Stark himself might not have possessed. His scanning-fast memorization and database-like memory were among them.

Fu Qinghai had come here mainly to clean, maintain, and repair his beloved MK4 Maximus Power Armor.

Any ordinary Space Marine could handle this routine maintenance, and Techmarine Fu Qinghai finished it even more swiftly and efficiently.

After a fresh coat of paint, the Power Armor looked brand-new. It was bone-white with red trim, and its helmet had been repaired. Fu Qinghai put on the helmet and strode confidently aboard the Stormbird.

Then Ogedei promptly yanked him back down.

Ogedei pulled Fu Qinghai aside, motioned for him to crouch, then leaned close and whispered:

"Qingshan, I'm not asking you to stay on the Sotharan forever. Just go over there, then come back soon."

Fu Qinghai looked bewildered. Wasn't it you who told me to go?

"Do you think I don't want you going to Mars? That I think you're too green and don't want you taking part in this glorious battle?"

"Uh..." Fu Qinghai wanted to say, Old Ogedei, you've got it wrong. I'd actually be happier if I didn't have to go and get myself killed.

"How could that be? You're the most talented Techmarine I've ever met. Of course, I've spent most of my time with the White Scars and haven't met many Techmarines, but you really have impressed me. We won't abandon you."

You flatter me. How about you abandon me anyway... Fu Qinghai, Fu Qinghai, you really have forgotten that you should keep a low profile at work.

"You've got another task this time. I didn't mention it earlier."

"What task?"

"The Short Sword is always short on ammunition and supplies. We only replenished some damage-control materials on Moradigan. We're lacking heavy weapons and all sorts of firepower. Plasma weapons, Melta Weapons, Krak Grenades, Frag Grenades, and so on... The Ultramarines are famously rich."

Fu Qinghai's look at Ogedei clearly asked: You're not thinking of...

Meeting Fu Qinghai's questioning gaze, Ogedei said bluntly, "That's right. Find a way to get some for us. Don't steal them; that wouldn't be honorable for a warrior of Chogoris."

"Then how am I supposed to get them?"

"Figure something out. I believe in you. You can do it. You've never let me down."

Fu Qinghai boarded the Stormbird with an expression of utter disbelief.

He wanted Plasma Weapons and Melta Weapons too. In fact, he knew the technical principles and manufacturing methods for them, but even the cleverest housewife couldn't cook without rice. Master Kunto was a Biologis, and his laboratory was full of living tissue samples. With materials and production facilities in short supply, Fu Qinghai couldn't just make a Plasma Cannon with his bare hands.

He wasn't an Ork who could smack his head and just know how to turn junk into weapons. Weapon manufacturing still had to obey scientific principles.

Before long, the Stormbird reached the docking bay of the Sotharan, a Lunar-class Cruiser.

The boarding bay doors slowly opened. An honor guard of Ultramarines stood in formation on either side, fully armored and bearing banners and other ceremonial regalia. Their ranks were solemn, immaculate, and utterly precise.

If they could assemble an honor guard, the Ultramarines aboard this cruiser couldn't be few in number.

The Ultramarines had shown sufficient respect to this isolated White Scars force.

Standing between the two lines of Ultramarines to greet Fu Qinghai and the others was a Space Marine in ornate, finely crafted Power Armor.

His helmet bore wings of dark gold across its faceplate. A dark-gold crest shaped like a row of horsehair adorned the top, and metallic eagle reliefs decorated his pauldrons. A moon-white cloak hung from his back.

"Invictarus," Talal whispered in Fu Qinghai's ear.

"What's that?" Fu Qinghai asked quietly.

"The personal guard of Primarch Roboute Guilliman, the honor guard of the Thirteenth Legion. You could compare them to our Keshig. But unlike the Invictarus, whose members are all skilled in administration and governance as well as combat, the Golden Keshig are equipped with powerful Jetbikes. They're an invincible cavalry, swift as the wind."

Fu Qinghai understood. The Invictarus were essentially the Ultramarines Legion's management trainees.

The Golden Keshig were the White Scars Legion's honor guard and Jaghatai Khan's personal protectors. Unlike the Invictarus, who were all master administrators, the Golden Keshig came with powerful Jetbikes as standard equipment. They were invincible cavalry, strong as a storm.

As they disembarked, Fu Qinghai walked at the front and center, with Talal and Aaron, clad in Terminator Armor, at his sides. Behind them came several Servitors carrying a large box containing Fu Qinghai's DIY projects.

Fu Qinghai removed his helmet first and held it at his side.

The commander across from him removed his own helmet. He looked surprised to see Fu Qinghai's youthful face, but quickly concealed his reaction.

He was a middle-aged man with a resolute face, short, light-blond hair, and a calm gaze. He pressed his lips together and wore a stern expression.

He spread his arms and called out, "Welcome to the Sotharan, warriors of the Khan!"

Fu Qinghai bowed and clenched a fist in salute. "I pay my respects, honored commander."

The Ultramarines placed great importance on courtesy and social etiquette. They truly lived up to their reputation as noble scions of Ultramar's prosperous Realm of Ultramar. That was Fu Qinghai's first impression of the Thirteenth Legion.

The warrior leading them is so young... That was the Sotharan's commander's first impression of Fu Qinghai.

The Ultramarines' symbol was an upside-down "Ω," so they were also known as the "U's" or "Toilet Seats." Their armor was mainly dark blue, earning them other nicknames such as the Smurfs and Papa Smurf.

The welcoming ceremony was solemn but brief. Soon, the warriors who had temporarily served as the honor guard returned to their posts.

"I'm the Sotharan's commander, Captain Set Vlahos. You can call me Vlahos."

"Greetings, Captain. Qingshan—that's my name."

"The situation in the Lesser Sector is tense. The Sotharan is constantly on alert, so we can't arrange a banquet or celebration for you. I hope you won't take offense at this simple welcome."

Vlahos spoke very courteously.

"You're too kind. Your ceremony has left us deeply honored. Our Primarch, Jaghatai Khan, is just as easygoing and forthright. I'm sure we've inherited those virtues from him."

Fu Qinghai's reply was equally impeccable.

"Captain Ogedei and I have already discussed things thoroughly. We can travel together until we reach the edge of the Solar System. For the time being, I hope the three of you will stay aboard the Sotharan and work alongside my warriors."

After the pleasantries, Vlahos made his request directly.

"I'm afraid I can't agree, Captain Vlahos. During combat, all the combat personnel aboard the Short Sword will follow your command. But my two companions will need to return to the Short Sword. I'm the only one who'll stay."

Fu Qinghai remembered Ogedei's instructions before they set out. The old man had already guessed the Ultramarines would try to bargain.

Fu Qinghai had used the words "combat personnel." The Sotharan didn't know Master Kunto, a Biologis, was hiding aboard the Short Sword. If Vlahos knew about him, then Master Kunto clearly wouldn't count as "combat personnel."

"All right. As you wish." Vlahos shrugged, but didn't press the matter.

"My adjutant will show you around the Sotharan. Time is short, so we won't linger here. We'll be underway shortly."

"Understood."

Talal and Aaron returned to the Short Sword, while Fu Qinghai stayed behind.

Vlahos's adjutant was a mortal in the midst of undergoing transformation. He was already noticeably taller and broader than an ordinary human, though not yet as tall as a Space Marine. His adjutant's uniform looked rather tight on him.

The standard Space Marine transformation process didn't happen overnight. It was normal for someone like this adjutant to undergo the process while serving.

The adjutant led Fu Qinghai through spacious corridors beneath towering vaulted ceilings, past a Great Hall and banquet hall. In vivid detail, he explained how the paintings, banners, and weapons displayed on the walls represented the Ultramarines' glorious battles and great heroes.

Fu Qinghai followed the adjutant around tall, polished marble columns, taking an interested look at the oil paintings and reliefs in Ultramar's style, so different from the art of Chogoris.

Human warships in the Warhammer 40K universe had their own distinctive style, much like its Titans and Power Armor. They were not merely weapons of war but also showcases for the might of the Imperium of Man. Unlike the clean, practical interiors of spaceships in other science fiction franchises, Imperial warships were extravagantly decorated.

Warships in the 30K era were practically palaces fitted with Lances, Macro-cannons, and plasma drives.

By the 40K era, when religious superstition flourished, they had swapped the palaces for churches, but the atmosphere remained the same.

After touring the warship, Fu Qinghai returned to the personal quarters assigned to him aboard the Sotharan. They followed the same layout as those on the Short Sword: a cabin and a weapons room.

The box he'd brought with him had already been placed in the weapons room.

As he sat on the bed in his cabin, he could faintly feel the warship's engines rumbling and shuddering deep within the vessel. Fu Qinghai knew that, as a mighty and noble Astartes Monk, he had the privilege of a spacious private cabin and could admire and critique classical Gothic art in elegant halls and corridors. But this enormous vessel couldn't run on art and decoration alone. In the warship's intricate, web-like network of pipes, countless Servitors and laborers endured the cramped, sweltering conditions and worked like ants.

People wondered why, despite the advanced technology of the future, it took even more people to operate a spaceship.

That was one of the distinctive features of the Warhammer 40K universe. Put simply, fear of Greater Daemons of Tzeentch and artificial intelligence meant that warships in the 40K era required even more personnel, because much ancient technology had been lost in war.

Fu Qinghai opened the box he'd brought with him. Besides his oversized Combi-Bolter, fitted with a flamethrower and a drum magazine, there was a huge contraption resembling the tentacles of a mechanical octopus.

In fact, it was a multifunctional repair tool that Fu Qinghai had custom-built for himself. The inspiration had come from Master Kunto's bodily modifications. The Tech-priest had replaced his limbs and even some of his organs with synthetic synapses and mechanical tentacles, greatly improving the laboratory's work efficiency.

Fu Qinghai had long lamented that, despite being a Techmarine, he didn't have Power Armor suited to his station. So he had dismantled some of the tools in Master Kunto's laboratory and used the knowledge granted by the Tony Stark Electronic Soul Backup to integrate them into a mechanical arm.

This Servo-arm, which incorporated a plasma cutter, a Power Claw, a welding torch, and precision mechanical tendrils, was itself an original component salvaged from one of Master Kunto's devices.

Master Kunto: MMP.

Mounted on the Power Pack behind his Power Armor, this Servo-arm could just about serve as a battlefield repair tool.

Fu Qinghai named it the "Qingshan 1.0 Battlefield Multifunctional Servo-Arm."

It was a lightweight, foldable, detachable Power Armor attachment that could be carried around. Fu Qinghai thought it was better than the standard Techmarine Servo-arm. It incorporated the White Scars' tactical focus on speed. Ordinary Techmarines were rather cumbersome on the battlefield, with several specialized Servo-arms and oversized equipment mounted on their backs, and a small retinue of technical laborers following them around.

Of Fu Qinghai's other two creations in the Warhammer 40K universe, the shock lance that had knocked Ogedei out was disposable and had no name. As for the Combi-Bolter, Fu Qinghai thought it wasn't very sophisticated and was little more than a high-powered toy, so he hadn't named it either.

This Servo-arm was the first of Fu Qinghai's creations to receive an official name.

While Fu Qinghai carefully inspected his new creation, a fierce argument broke out on the Sotharan's bridge.

An hour earlier, the Auspex had detected three Word Bearers transport ships. The transports had also spotted the Sotharan, so they immediately fled toward the nearest planet. They landed on a barren world and disappeared among the mountain ranges and canyon ravines.

The Lunar-class Cruiser was a standard voidship, built and operated in the void. Though its firepower, armor, and speed far surpassed those of the Word Bearers' transports, it couldn't travel through an atmosphere or land on a planet's surface. All the Sotharan could do was watch as the three transports, capable of atmospheric flight and landing, escaped to the surface and hid.

"This is obviously a trap!" one Ultramarines officer shouted.

"Three transports with no warship escort just happened to appear in our path. Then they headed for an uninhabited planet and crash-landed."

"Even this barren world... let me check the name. Planet Roswell VII. It could well be the battlefield those traitors prepared for us," someone added.

Another sergeant said indignantly, "Are you suggesting we let three Word Bearers ships sit right under our noses and pretend we don't see them?"

"Have you forgotten Calth? Have you forgotten the civilians who died on Ultramar?" he demanded.

"But we really shouldn't fight on a battlefield chosen by the enemy."

"What are you suggesting? An orbital bombardment? With just one cruiser, do you expect to cover the entire planet?"

"That would still be better than sending our warriors to die in the enemy's trap!"

"Captain Vlahos, we can't let hatred cloud our judgment. This could very well be a conspiracy."

"Do you have a better idea?"

Set Vlahos listened to his subordinates argue in silence. His eyes were fixed on the holographic projection of Planet Roswell VII on the table, but he was thinking of something Primarch Roboute Guilliman often said to his personal guards:

"Always remain rational. Don't let anger cloud your mind."

He drew a deep breath and said solemnly, "Quiet, everyone. We haven't reported our route to anyone but the Primarch. The enemy couldn't have known it in advance, especially since we changed our destination at the last minute to investigate a merchant ship. It's unlikely to be a trap."

"Our orbital bombardment can't cover the whole planet, but we also can't simply ignore these three ships."

"Look here. This is where the transports' signals disappeared. The ships landed on the ground; they can't grow legs and run away, can they? Whatever traps they've set, they can't be beyond this area."

Vlahos looked up at his subordinates. "Whatever those transports are carrying—even if they're empty ships, mere bait—as long as we find and destroy them, how are the Word Bearers on this barren planet going to get to Terra? Walk?"

His retort made the officers grin, easing the tense atmosphere somewhat.

Then Vlahos continued, "We'll deploy in squads, scattering into this area aboard Thunderhawk Gunships. Maintain contact with the fleet in orbit at all times. The rest of the force can drop in wherever the situation calls for it. Our warship is our advantage. If you find the enemy and can't break through, call for orbital support immediately. Don't force it. Understood?"

"Understood!" the squad leaders answered in unison.

"Good. I'll assign each squad its area of responsibility and divide the vanguard and reserve forces."

At that point, Set Vlahos suddenly thought of something. He turned to one of the sergeants and said, "Gult, take that White Scars warrior with you. Have him join your squad as part of the reserve force, ready for an orbital drop."

"Yes, sir."

Vlahos said calmly, "If this planet is a trap, then that White Scars escort frigate that appeared out of nowhere and separated from its fleet could be a trap too. There's only one way to find out."