Investigating the mysterious energy signal

Evan wanted to dig a hole and jump into it. Why were there so many spectators, and why hadn't any of them made a sound? This was so embarrassing.

Deika was so excited that he wanted to run a dozen kilometres and kill another three hundred Orks before coming back, just to work off everything he was feeling.

By then, the Techmarine had overloaded the invulnerable force field. Or rather, once Mistanbol's enormous Waaagh field vanished, its energy had been greatly weakened, even though they still didn't know where the Orks' Weirdboss was hiding. It had already been on the verge of collapsing on its own; a little pressure from the Techmarine was all it took.

"Chapter Master Deika, something strange flew out of the battlefield and headed straight into space." The transmission from the warship was already extremely weak by the time it reached them and threatened to cut out at any moment.

"Is it a threat?"

"Our preliminary assessment says no, but it's very fast."

"Then leave it alone. Is the orbital bombardment ready?"

"The Lance will be in position in twenty-six seconds."

"Fire as soon as it's in position."

"Chapter Master Deika, we're ready. It's time to withdraw," the Grand Master Librarian told Deika.

Obviously. They had destroyed everything they needed to destroy and killed the warlord. What else were they hanging around for?

"Everyone, prepare for Psyker Power teleportation."

Evan hurriedly pulled out the golden Power Sword, and Psyker Power flashed around him.

Following the Chapter Master's earlier orders, the Green Templars' Fourth Company had withdrawn ten kilometres. They were now gathered around an Emperor's Blade heavy tank, faithfully carrying out their Fourth Company Captain's orders: build solid defences and fight methodically. Everyone was diligently digging air-raid shelters and establishing defensive positions.

Suddenly, Psyker Power beams flashed, and the assault team appeared within the position.

Last time, Evan had appeared behind the tank. This time might have been an accident—no, the Green Templars' Chief Librarian had definitely done it on purpose. He was standing somewhere very unusual.

A brilliant light flashed before everyone's eyes. Naturally, they were delighted to see their battle-brothers return. Then someone said, "Holy shit, who's that? He looks badass."

Every gaze turned towards him.

A towering Astartes stood on the muzzle of the Emperor's Blade Tank's ten-metre-long cannon.

Battered armour, a warrior standing tall and proud, a "blood-dripping" blade-and the head of the enormous Ork warlord responsible for it all hanging at his waist.

"Here it comes, get ready!" The Librarian snatched a Battlefield Recorder from the Imperialis Militia and focused it on Evan.

Boom! An enormous Lance strike, the Emperor's holy punishment, crashed down behind Evan. The vast pillar of light seemed to split the sky in two. At its base, the Gargant erupted in a colossal explosion, showering the heavens with debris of every kind.

"Yes, yes, that's the angle! Damn, he looks cool."

"Damn, he looks cool. That's an amazing shot."

Tristy, formerly the commander-in-chief of the Arctic Military Base, was now acting governor of the entire planet. Naturally, all the nobles who had voted against him had already been sent to hell. He controlled the troops-what right did they have to object?

What the planet needed most now was someone to thank and place their faith in. That would give humanity's remaining survivors hope for the future, unite them, and inspire them to throw themselves wholeheartedly into rebuilding the planet. The whole of society would be filled with hope and drive.

The photograph he had just received was undoubtedly the perfect propaganda material.

"Honoured Astartes lord, if possible, I hope this great warrior could give a speech. Our people are desperate to see the lord who saved our lives. Words cannot express our gratitude. It's simply... simply..." The hardened commander shed hot tears, choking on his words.

Looking back on the fighting, it had been death, holding the line, rout, retreat, death, holding the line, rout, retreat... In those desperate circumstances, the Astartes had descended like divine warriors and delivered the people from disaster. Supposedly, the mighty Astartes in the photograph had single-handedly beaten the Ork warlord responsible into a humiliating retreat, leaving him grievously wounded before finally catching him and beheading him. Never mind all the other great deeds-this legendary battle alone could give minstrels enough material for two volumes, nine instalments, and eighteen chapters. It would sell like crazy.

The people now needed two targets: one on whom to pour out their joy at surviving, and another on whom to vent the grief and rage of losing their homes and families.

"Unless something unexpected happens, he'll return to the Arctic Base in ten days. I can arrange it."

"Thank you so much, honoured lord..."

Evan returned both swords to their original Chapters. The great axe in his shoulder had already been removed. It would be kept forever in the Chapter museum aboard the Blessed Forest, an enduring tribute to his achievements. The Ork's head would be disinfected, preserved as a specimen, and kept permanently in the Atris Planetary Museum.

He had now removed his shoulder armour and finished having the wound bandaged. For an Astartes, an ordinary flesh wound could heal almost instantly, but because the axe had remained lodged in his shoulder throughout the chase, the wound had been unable to close. His blood had clotted around the axe, making it rather difficult to remove.

Yet only a day after being bandaged, he could already move his arm freely.

Still, the change in everyone's attitude towards him made him deeply uncomfortable.

The other battle-brothers weren't too bad. Whenever they met him, they would exchange a few words: great fighting, you did us proud, and so on. His own squadmates were a different story.

Their squad leader, William, vowed to teach Evan every skill he possessed. He wanted to train a Chapter Champion. What an honour that would be!

Their deputy squad leader, Kshevich, had immediately launched into a bizarre routine of prayers and blessings. Evan seriously suspected that he had once been a Chaplain's apprentice, only to drive his teacher into a brain haemorrhage with his prayers and get this talented individual reassigned here.

Charles felt that he had earned tremendous glory: he had saved the life of Atris's Savior. When Evan's Chainsword had become stuck in the Deff Dread, Charles had saved him with a leaping strike from his Chainaxe.

Shi Zhengxiang felt as though he was practically becoming a medic. First he had pulled a blade out of Evan's head, and now he had removed an axe. He was even considering applying to study under the Chief Apothecary and become an Apothecary Aspirant.

Gajie studied Evan's head every day. He kept wondering whether that strange Deff Dread beside the Morkanaut had damaged his brain. What normal recruit would challenge an Ork warlord to single combat?

Evan was puzzled too. No matter how he looked at it, Mistanbol's death had been far too strange, even if he really had dealt every blow himself. The wound to the Ork warlord's foot had been severe, but it shouldn't have made him completely lose the will to fight, let alone throw away his axe and flee without looking back.

The reason was actually simple. While Evan and Mistanbol were duelling, the elite Astartes had slaughtered the Orks inside the Gargant, stripping Mistanbol of his leadership over the warband. The followers loyal to him had been all but wiped out. Although his size and fighting strength remained immense for a short time, without enough waaagh energy to stimulate him, his hormone levels had rapidly fallen-including the hormones responsible for the Orks' most defining traits, such as recklessness, courage, and cunning.

In other words, at that point, his intelligence had been little different from that of an ordinary Nob.

So who had become the Orks' leader?

Out in space, Boomblasta was pondering that very question. It's my first time being the boss. What should I do? Ah, who cares? I'll Waaagh my way across the universe.

Boomblasta's ultra-high-speed spacecraft left the star system and headed deeper into the universe.

The Astartes of the Green Templars' Fourth Company, Third Squad, were racing across the white wilderness.

The battle was over, so why hadn't they returned to the warship?

They still hadn't figured out what that strange energy signal in the A9C1 Region was.

There was no need for further discussion. The brothers rode their little bikes to the location with a series of beeps, marked it with a Tactical Marker, called for help, and started digging.

The Imperialis Militia stationed at the nearby North Pole military fortress arrived with enormous excavating machines, along with demolition equipment, detection equipment, and a suit of Power Armour.

Overhead, Green Templars transports also delivered several valuable pieces of heavy machinery manufactured at the Mars Forge. After centuries and millennia of blessings and inscriptions, these ancient machines seemed to have grown ever more capable.

An officer of the Imperialis Militia led a squad of soldiers straight towards Evan, escorting an enormous iron box.

"Honoured Astartes lord, on Chapter Master Deika's orders, we have brought the Power Armour Replacement Equipment here. If it is convenient for you, we can perform the rite of replacing the damaged components now."

Normally, Power Armour had to be donned in a dedicated Armouring Chamber aboard a warship. Replacing a few components, however, didn't require nearly so much trouble. Mark X Power Armour featured a modular design: whatever needed replacing could simply be replaced.

Evan followed them into the black metal box. Inside was a makeshift Armouring Chamber, with four boxes of components arranged beside it.

After both shoulder plates and his helmet were replaced, they left the shattered breastplate in place and fitted an additional component over it instead. It was a chest component from Cataphractii Terminator armour, completely covering his original breastplate as a second layer of reinforced armour.

By the time Evan finished having his armour changed, they had already dug an enormous pit up ahead. So what if the permafrost was tens of thousands of years old? It was perfect for cooling their heavy machinery.

With everyone hard at work, the excavation advanced quickly. Then a beeping sound came from the bottom of the pit, and everyone scattered as far away as they could. Evan glanced at the detector sounding the alarm. Good grief, that was a lot of radiation. What now? The mortals wouldn't be able to handle it anytime soon. The fully equipped mortal troops capable of resisting nuclear radiation were still using Promethium flamethrowers to cleanse the lands ravaged by the Orks.

Evan even considered suggesting that Deika establish a Mechanised Cyborg Legion similar to the Adeptus Mechanicus's Skitarii. Not through the methods used by the Shadow Blades, of course, but through full mechanical conversion. They could recruit strong-willed people with disabilities or veterans gravely wounded on the battlefield.

For now, though, they needed to solve the immediate problem.

All right, Astartes, get to work. The brothers alternated between melting the frozen soil with flamethrowers and opening holes with power drills and mechanical buckets. After digging another sixteen metres down, they finally hit something.

"What is this? It's white... What material is this?"

"No idea. Judging by the part we've uncovered, it looks pretty big."

"It's tough, anyway. I only stopped because my power drill hit it and couldn't get any farther. Look, there's not even a scratch."

"Then keep digging. Clear more space and expose more of it."

They continued excavating, exposing more of the strange construct. But even after clearing another fifteen square metres, they still hadn't uncovered the whole thing.

"This appears to be an Aeldari spacecraft." Deputy squad leader Kshevich carefully examined the material that seemed to form the ship's hull.

"Whatever it is, it isn't small."

"Of course it isn't small. We've been digging this long and still don't know how big it is. Let's get the Hazardous Environment Troops here."

Naturally, the mortal forces had fully equipped Hazardous Environment Troops. One of the better-known examples within the Astra Militarum was the Death Korps of Krieg, whose home world was a ruined planet left behind by nuclear war, its entire surface saturated with lethal radiation.

There were also troops mechanically augmented until almost no organic parts remained. The Adeptus Mechanicus's Skitarii were a well-known example.

Once the report of a suspected Aeldari spacecraft reached the Blessed Forest, a flood of questions followed. Only after Kshevich replied, "This is Kshevich. I confirm that this is an Aeldari spacecraft," did the questioning finally stop.

Less than half an hour later, a transport ship landed some distance away. Since no one knew whether the spacecraft posed a threat, the transport dared not land too close. After all, some kinds of radiation could even disable electronic equipment.

"Working people have happiness aplenty! I labour, and I'm proud! Working people have iron wills! I strive, and I'm happy!"

The soldiers shouted slogans the Astartes had never heard before as they worked up a sweat. First they dug a hole fifteen metres across, but that still wasn't large enough, so they widened it to twenty-five metres, then thirty-five... They only stopped when it reached a diameter of one hundred and fifty metres.

"Confirmed. This is an Aeldari spacecraft," deputy squad leader Kshevich suddenly said. He seemed to have become a different person, radiating focus and solemnity.

"Kshevich is our squad's Aeldari expert," William said.

"Trust his judgement. Kshevich, do you think our Melta Bombs could blast this ship open?"

"It would be difficult. With the weapons we currently have, we could either fail to scratch it or call in an orbital bombardment from six warships. That would most likely leave nothing of it at all."

"Then how do we get inside?"

"We don't need to. Look underneath. Its fuel has probably leaked, which is why we're picking up strange energy readings."

The newly arrived Primaris Astartes gave their deputy squad leader doubtful looks, but the veterans had already walked beneath the spacecraft.

Sure enough, something unknown had damaged the white hull at its lowest point, exposing black internal pipes. A strange red substance had flowed out of them and appeared to have corroded the spacecraft and the surrounding soil.

The Astartes began moving around, recording the surrounding geological information and collecting samples. They didn't know why the Aeldari spacecraft had suddenly sprung a leak, but collecting data and sending it to experts certainly couldn't hurt.

So what were they supposed to do with it now?

What did they mean, do with it? Pack up the whole thing and take it away.

Once they reported that it was an Aeldari spacecraft, the entire process of calling in support sped up considerably. Whatever personnel they needed, they got; whatever machinery they needed, they got.

A Heavy Transport Ship brought in several enormous metal boxes to package the entire spacecraft, which measured more than one hundred and forty metres in length.

Like nesting dolls, one box went inside another until the outermost reached a diameter of two hundred and thirty metres. They didn't spare the surrounding soil either. High radiation, was it? Take it all.

What had started as a mission for Third Squad alone had turned into a noisy operation involving a whole crowd of workers, but the smiles on their faces were brighter than if they had been at a party.

Chapter Master Deika was thinking far beyond what they had considered. According to their report, the spacecraft's fuel leak had most likely begun only recently. What exactly had corroded the outer hull of an Aeldari warship? Could they identify it and put it to use? Could they turn it into a weapon against the Aeldari? When had this spacecraft arrived here? A geological survey of the area had to be conducted alongside the other work. Every aspect of an Aeldari spacecraft's performance surpassed that of human warships. What technologies had been used, and could an Archmagos decipher them?

These weren't fragments blasted to pieces. This was an almost intact Aeldari spacecraft.

After the mass extinction brought about by Slaanesh's birth, almost all surviving Aeldari belonged to ship-based civilisations aboard enormous Void Arks. Their tiny population made technological development almost impossible, and many branches of technology had even died out because there were too few people to preserve them. Like humanity during the Dark Age of Technology, the Aeldari as a whole were suffering technological regression. Could the technology aboard this spacecraft be even more advanced than that of the present-day Aeldari?

The Green Templars' leaders had countless questions on their minds.

The Astartes of Third Squad were naturally happy to take it easy. They didn't have to do the work themselves; they only needed to listen to the mortals' reports and patrol the area. Only deputy squad leader Kshevich showed an intense interest. Over the past few days, his squadmates had watched him circle the spacecraft hundreds of times.

"Hey, Gajie, do you think we should call a Chaplain over? Why do I get the feeling Kshevich has lost his mind?"

"Yeah. Has he fallen under some Aeldari illusion? Should we grab a statue of the Emperor and give him a good smack on the back of the head?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. What if hitting him in the head turns him into a lone berserker like Evan?"

Evan: "..." (His language was too strong to reproduce in detail here.)

"Stop talking crap. The job's done. The Chapter Master has ordered us to return to the Arctic Base immediately."

As the transport ship carried away the enormous metal box, eight Jetbikes sped north.