Hill immediately went to gather the company's sergeants and the accompanying mortal servants.
The Space Marines had not only dedicated combat servants, who could help carry supplies and ammunition during war, but also many more mortal servants responsible for keeping the legion running.
Some built fortifications, some helped maintain power armor, while others prepared food and provisions for the Space Marines.
Although the Astartes' primary food was a high-calorie porridge-like substance mixed with essential trace elements and ceramite particles that strengthened bone, that did not mean they ate nothing else.
Some particularly ravenous Astartes did not mind casually eating the metal utensils they had just used after finishing their meals.
Compared to brother legions inclined toward asceticism, the Ultramarines Legion enjoyed a more abundant material life.
Medics, maintenance technicians, and all manner of specialists were assembled.
In less than twenty minutes, a fully organized company of Ultramarines and its attached personnel had boarded the Red Alert, including Lox's old friend Nykona and the others.
Nykona still wore the suit of power armor Lox had given him. Even after the brutal fighting on Calth, the armor bore neither bullet craters nor scratches, its surface as smooth and spotless as if it had just left the factory.
"Hill is very envious of my power armor. I told him I'd ask you to give him a set too." Nykona walked over with a smile and placed his right hand on Hill's shoulder guard.
"Hey! Don't put it so bluntly!" Hill said, feigning annoyance before turning to Lox. "Though, of course, that really is my wish."
Lox stared blankly at the two of them fooling around, scarcely able to believe that this was Nykona—the man who had always been solemn and unsmiling, even somewhat prone to melancholy.
Was this Hill's charm? Even a Raven Guard who was gloomy all day had become cheerful.
No wonder Guilliman had kept Hill by his side every day after returning from Calth, even sending Chapter Master Marius Gage back to his post.
Hill really was the Ultramarines' golden social butterfly. Even Lox liked a warrior like Hill very much.
Guilliman was certainly willing to part with him, sending Hill here to assist.
"Astartes power armor is part of my improvement plan. Nykona, don't get too smug either. Once my new power armor is ready, your old set can retire and be scrapped."
In Lox's plans, power armor improvements ranked near the top of his schedule. In his view, the Imperial-produced models—whether the Mk II Crusade pattern, Mk III Iron pattern, or Mk IV Maximus pattern—were all far too crude.
Crude did not mean ineffective, but if there was a better option, more warriors could be saved. If equipment could crush the enemy, there would be no need for warriors to trade their sacrifices for victory.
Lox did not advocate relying solely on equipment. He had witnessed the power of will on Calth, but neither did he glorify suffering and sacrifice. He preferred letting warriors crush their enemies head-on with dignity.
Though the ceramite commonly used in all kinds of equipment was already sturdy and durable enough, in this universe filled with every kind of monster and demon, it seemed that any random enemy had a means of breaking through ceramite.
Lox also understood that the Imperium did not lack superior materials, but once cost and time were taken into account, ceramite became the inevitable choice.
The Imperium of Man was simply too vast. Even the slightest difference in cost became an astronomical figure when magnified across the entire Imperium.
"The gap is really that obvious? This suit of mine practically crushed the Word Bearers." Nykona found it hard to believe.
During the battle against the Word Bearers on Calth, it was not as if he had never been hit by enemy bolter rounds. Those rounds had simply all been stopped by his armor.
His Shadow Step was already elusive and unpredictable, making him difficult for enemies to hit. Now, he fought even more freely, with a far bolder style.
"You'll understand when you see it."
"My lord, all personnel have boarded. We await your orders," Hill reported.
Lox looked back at Macragge behind him. There was no time to explore this beautiful planet now. He would return for a look when he had the time.
"Then let's depart. Destination: Mustafar."
The starship's hatch closed, and the engine nozzles at its rear emitted a faint, deep-blue glow.
At the starship's speed, everyone felt as though they had only flown for a short while before reaching their destination.
Standing in the main control room, Lox guided the starship through the atmosphere and slowly descended toward the surface.
Unless they crashed, Imperial warships generally never came down to the surface, because the immense effects of their mass would tear apart the hull's structure and cause the vessel to collapse.
These massive ships were also built in the microgravity environment of spaceborne shipyards.
But the Red Alert had no such concerns. Even if it were thrown into the heart of the sun, the structure of its hull would not be affected in the slightest.
Mustafar had once been a mining world, and it was also a death world.
In ages past, because it was close to Macragge, ancient settlers had colonized the planet and built vast amounts of mining equipment.
The easily mined shallow mineral deposits on the planet had long since been exhausted. Its atmosphere was saturated with toxic gases, while highly corrosive acid rain fell amid active atmospheric disturbances, gathering into acidic rivers across the surface.
The planet-wide desertification caused by excessive mining had left not a trace of life visible on the surface. Sand and dust were swept up by storms, forming devastating sandstorms.
The Watchtowers and mining equipment built by the settlers stood alone amid the dust and sand. No life could survive in such an extreme environment.
But today, an enormous voidship broke through the planet's atmosphere, its anti-gravity engines supporting its immense mass as it slowly descended.
Before this colossal vessel, even the storm had no choice but to subside. The force field released by the Red Alert cleared a clean area around it, as though an invisible shield blocked the storm and acid rain, sealing them all outside.
The starship crushed the surface rocks to powder. Its hull settled onto the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.
"I command: activate the war protocol. Deploy the MCV."
Standing before the Cogitator, Lox waited as the shipboard AI scanned his biological information. Once it verified that his genes matched, the ancient machine that had slept in the warehouse for ten thousand years began to awaken.
Thirty meters tall and over eighty meters long, the enormous vehicle emerged from dormancy. It drove out of the stasis field as the anti-gravity modules beneath its chassis released thrust, causing the massive construct to float more than half a meter above the ground.
It drove out through the starship's hatch. Guided by the intelligent AI, the enormous construction vehicle reached an open stretch of ground, and with the command issued, the MCV began a dazzling transformation.
"How did it do that? Turn from a vehicle into an entire complex?"
"Good thing we don't have those oil-worshippers around. In the Emperor's name, the priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus would go mad with joy if they saw this."
Hill's reaction was especially exaggerated. Before him, a technologically elegant complex quietly lit up. Metal proliferated and expanded at a frenzied pace, special alloys paved over the sand and dust, and lines of energy carried power everywhere.
It was utterly unlike the crude, wild style of the Adeptus Mechanicus. There were no towering Gothic spires, no servo-skulls flying about everywhere, and no dull, mechanical Servitor laborers. Everything appeared so clean, orderly, and well organized.
A thought flashed through the Ultramarines' minds: perhaps this was what technology had originally been meant to look like.
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