Lion El'Jonson's projection stood like the cold statue of a judge.
His eyes were sharp as blades. He broke the silence first, his voice low and oppressive.
"An alliance with the Necrons? Guilliman, your proposal shocks me."
His spectral form pointed at the Necron ships shimmering with eerie green light in the image.
"These may be xenos older and more treacherous than the Tyranids! Fight alongside them? That would be dancing with the abyss! Their promises are less trustworthy than the whispers of the Warp. Once the swarm's threat is gone, those Gauss Cannons will turn on the Imperium of Man the very next second! This is a fundamental error. Absolutely unacceptable!"
His words were emphatic, carrying an unquestionable resolve.
Absolute distrust of xenos was a creed ingrained in the very bones of the Dark Angels.
Vulkan leaned his enormous body slightly forward, his face filled with profound concern. His gaze did not linger on the cold warships or the vast swarm. Instead, it seemed to pierce the image and see the countless Imperial subjects struggling to survive in Segmentum Tempestus.
"Guilliman, Dorn... those worlds, the planets on the fringes of Segmentum Tempestus, the billions of lives upon them... do you have a plan? Evacuation in advance? Even if it is only some of the population near the core worlds..."
He looked at Guilliman, his eyes earnest.
"With a catastrophe on this scale, once the defensive line collapses, the time left to them will probably be... almost nonexistent. We cannot stand by and let them become the swarm's first meal."
His compassion and reverence for life weighed especially heavily beneath the desperate clouds of war.
The projection of the Wolf King of Fenris bared its teeth, a low growl rising in his throat. His hair seemed to bristle with battle