"Another one of those chilling sensations..." Lin Fan shivered unnaturally and hugged himself, trying to ward off the cold.
Perturabo looked at Lin Fan's sudden discomfort and asked what was wrong. When he learned that Lin Fan felt cold, he curled his lip in a disdainful smile.
"Your joke is terrible. You didn't even shiver when a bomb blasted you into the void, but now you're trembling?"
"No, you don't understand. It feels like something is watching me."
"Watching you?" Perturabo recalled the enormous eyes he had often seen before. "Then I'm somewhat familiar with that."
Perturabo answered absentmindedly, then returned to his work. He was using laser welding and arc clamps to repair the damage to a Castaferrum-pattern Dreadnought.
Suppressing the Lamenters' resistance had been far easier than Perturabo had expected. The Carcharodons had an Apothecary and a Chaplain who could at least make him take them seriously, but aboard this old, poorly maintained Lamenters warship, only the Castaferrum Dreadnought he was repairing could be called a battle-hardened veteran.
As always, the Lamenters had carried forward their cursed luck. Perhaps seeing their lack of numbers and equipment, the Drukhari cabal had made the Lamenters their primary target.
The entire warship was littered with shards of poisoned crystal and smooth breaches left by Dark Lance strikes.
Many Lamenters had fought the cabal fiercely despite their wounds, only to be struck by all manner of vicious weapons. Poisons flowed through their bodies, forming agonizing crystalline clusters in their organs and blood vessels.
Lin Fan adjusted his potion on a makeshift platform Perturabo had built for him, occasionally gagging as he stuck a finger down his throat.
"You... traitors!" A curse rang out. A Lamenters warrior in standard Mark VII power armor lay on the floor. Drukhari poison was rapidly destroying his