"Orks." Dorn tapped his fingers lightly on the metal table. "How long has it been?"
Rahn responded immediately, "At least forty-three standard Terran days, my Lord."
Dorn fell silent, a flicker of concern in his eyes.
Reach, that unfortunate world, was now being ravaged by the green-skinned Orks. At the same time, the Inwit Empire had been concentrating its forces to suppress the Corobus rebellion, completely unable to tend to this remote agricultural world. The strategic value of a hive world was clearly far greater than that of an agri-world.
Forty-three days. Reach had likely already fallen to the Ork onslaught. Even if they rushed to its aid now, it would be far too late.
The Primarch's gaze swept over the Phalanx's majestic forward deck. Large transport vessels were steadily ferrying hundreds of thousands of crew members and research personnel aboard. Every inch of this colossal vessel spoke of humanity's ancient, glorious history, its technological sophistication far beyond anything humans could currently imagine.
Dorn had a feeling that even if he restarted the Phalanx, he would probably never unlock all its secrets.
Caelan asked, "How much longer will the Phalanx's restoration take?"
Dorn shook his head slightly. "At least several years."
The Phalanx was too vast. Simply circumnavigating it might take months. Even with a Primarch's personal supervision, even if he set aside temporarily unnecessary compartments to prioritize power and weapons systems, the timeline was still measured in years.
Dorn's voice was low. "Father, you were right. The Ork threat could spread across the entire Inwit Empire!"
This terrible prophecy was becoming reality. Reach was likely just the beginning, the first wave of the green tide sweeping through the Inwit Cluster.
Even more worrying was the thought of what would happen if the Phalanx's restoration couldn't be completed before a major Ork invasion. Dorn didn't dare imagine the consequences. But even if this magnificent mega-structure were returned to life, could they truly hold against a full-scale assault by an Ork empire?
This thought weighed on Dorn's heart like a heavy stone. He looked out at the dark void beyond the viewport, where perhaps countless bloodthirsty greenskins lurked, waiting to plunge the entire empire into war.
Caelan said, "Then we'll have to use a delaying tactic. Fight a war of attrition against the Orks."
"We must dispatch a fleet to reinforce Reach. If it's merely a small Ork fleet, eliminate it swiftly."
"If it's the vanguard of an Ork empire, then turn that border world into the main battlefield against the Orks, forcing them to continuously pour larger green tides into that world."
While fighting a war of attrition was the least desirable option, and Ork behavior was unpredictable, they might not commit their forces to Reach as Caelan expected, but instead invade the entire Inwit Cluster. However, until the Phalanx's restoration was complete, it was the only viable plan to protect Inwit and the other core worlds. It would at least buy them time to prepare.
Caelan's suggestion was just theoretical. Its implementation was up to Dorn.
But if the invaders truly were an Ork empire, even a restored Phalanx might struggle to withstand the full force of the green tide. Then, even Dorn would be faced with a difficult choice: abandon Inwit, abandon all worlds of the Inwit Cluster, and use the Phalanx as a base to search for a new home in the galaxy.
Caelan sighed softly. "Too bad we don't have any Ork reinforcements."
"Orks? Reinforcements?" A rare flicker of bewilderment crossed Dorn's stoic face. "Father, don't you think those two words contradict each other?"
"Don't be so sure. In the 41st millennium, there are actually Orks who believe in the Emperor!" Not only that, they were quite loyal. They willingly went to Imperial monasteries to debate theology with Sisters of Battle and offered the Emperor delicious mushrooms as sacrifices. Where could you get Orks like that?
Dorn reminded, "But this is the 30th millennium."
"True enough."
Although Orks seemed brutish, they were inherently cunning. They possessed a true genetic memory, with technical knowledge and learning modules pre-encoded into their genes. The ramshackle technology they used wasn't creation or imitation, but the excavation of their own knowledge. When an Ork's head itched, it could literally grow a brain. Their 'belief' power added a metaphysical element, allowing them to use junk as substitute precision parts.
If they had Ork help, banging away on the Phalanx could indeed shorten the restoration time significantly. But the cost would be turning the Phalanx into a garbage scow with Orkish charm.
Dorn turned to Rahn and issued a series of commands. "Immediately assemble the Second and Third Fleets. Ensure all ships complete combat readiness checks. Logistics must be fully prepared within twenty-four standard hours."
"Twenty-four standard hours from now, the fleet must depart for Reach."
"Though the forty-three-day delay has worsened the situation, we cannot allow the Orks to rampage unchecked along the Imperial border."
"Instruct all shipyards to suspend civilian vessel construction. Concentrate resources on supplying escort ships for the defense fleet."
"The First Fleet remains to guard Inwit. Defend the Phalanx at all costs."
"The restoration of the Phalanx must be absolutely secured. Any enemy threatening the fortress is to be annihilated immediately."
"Transfer the 15th through 21st Inwit Phalanx Legions to the Phalanx. We must prepare for the worst."
"Courier boats are to stand by near the Mandeville Point at all times. In the event of an Ork invasion, they are to jump to Reach immediately."
The First through Third Fleets were the main strength of the Inwit Empire, totaling one hundred and thirty-seven cruisers over three kilometers in length, plus numerous escort vessels.
Until the Phalanx's restoration was complete, these one hundred and thirty-seven warships were the final line of defense for the entire Inwit Cluster. Dorn had no choice but to make Reach the primary battlefield; it was better than letting the war spread to Inwit itself. But if Inwit itself were invaded, Dorn would not hesitate to abandon Reach's defensive line.
However, shortly after the assembly orders were issued, the deep-space augur arrays sounded a chilling alarm.
Rahn's voice held a distinct strain, "My Lord, an unknown fleet has been detected forcibly breaching Inwit's outer defenses!"
Dorn questioned, "Size?"
"Single vessel signature. Length, twelve kilometers. Energy readings match battleship standards!"
"Transmit scanning data to the tactical display."
On the holographic tactical table, the augur data quickly reconstructed a projection of the unknown vessel.
Dorn asked, "Father, could it be an Expeditionary Fleet of the Imperium of Man?"
Caelan slowly shook his head. "Unlikely. The Imperium has no vessels of this design!"
Imperial ship design language is very distinctive, mostly regular geometric structures, quite hard to mistake. This vessel's construction resembled an Eldar Craftworld, but it was far too small; even the smallest Craftworld was many times larger. Imperial ships were flying violence aesthetics; Eldar ships were meticulously crafted works of art. This ship belonged to neither Imperium nor Orks; Ork aesthetics were even worse than the Imperium's.
Dorn acted decisively, rattling off a series of commands, "First Fleet will flank on both sides. Second Fleet will maintain central axis suppression. Third Fleet will hold position with the Phalanx as its core."
"Patrol squadrons are to deploy in a sector search pattern immediately. Activate long-range augur arrays, focusing scans on the space around the Mandeville Point."
"Activate emergency alert protocol upon detecting any abnormal warp translation signals."
"All ships, go to Condition One. If the enemy fires first, return fire immediately."
"Open all communication channels. Transmit standard identification codes and a peaceful contact protocol. If no response after three repetitions, authorize free fire!"
Although the deep-space scan clearly showed only a single intruder, facing a hundred times their number, the Primarch's face showed no sign of relaxation. Though it appeared the enemy was advancing alone, it could still be a trap.
Unexpectedly, communication between the fleets was established on the first attempt.
But Dorn fell silent when he saw the ship's crew.
They appeared to be primitives, covered in red fur, their late years unknown.
How could primitives reach space?
"I am Rogal Dorn, Emperor of the Inwit Empire. Identify yourselves."
Dorn stared at the holographic projection of the fur-covered primitive face, which was pressing its face against its observation device with a naive curiosity. The red-furred creature blinked its large eyes but made no intelligible sound.
Dorn was not impatient. He knew the universe contained countless strange species. Language barriers were common in interstellar contact, but as long as the other party spoke, the cogitator could analyze their language.
"I am Rogal Dorn, Emperor of the Inwit Empire."
Dorn repeated his introduction tirelessly. Yet the creature of unknown late years remained disturbingly silent, its red-furred face showing no expression.
Caelan said, "It says you don't need to repeat it. It knows who you are."
Dorn inclined his head slightly. "Father, it hasn't spoken."
Caelan frowned in confusion. "But I distinctly heard a voice."
Dorn's gaze never left the unknown being. "Perhaps it wasn't through spoken language. Father, can you ask its name?"
Caelan answered, "Caesar."
"Your purpose?"
"They wish to conduct research work on the Phalanx."
Dorn didn't answer immediately. He would never allow unidentified xenos aboard the Phalanx.
Caelan said, "We can let them aboard. I suspect I know what species they are."
After a moment's silence, Dorn gave the order, "Clear the forward deck. Guide them to dock at Berth 21."
Dorn didn't trust xenos, but he trusted Caelan.
"They say thank you."
Dorn didn't care about xenos, thanks. He cut the channel and looked down at Caelan. "Father, who are they?"
"Remember the history of the War in Heaven I told you about?"
"The Old Ones created many races to fight the C'tan and the Necrontyr."
"The Aeldar and the Orks are merely the most famous, but the Old Ones' creations were far more numerous."
"Known Old One creations include at least the Rashan, the K'Nib, and the Jokaeros."
"The origin of Jokaeros is unknown, but they likely originated from ancient Terra."
"Sixty million years ago, ancient Terra had just witnessed the dinosaur extinction and was in the Cenozoic Era."
"The Old Ones visited ancient Terra multiple times, taking numerous species, including the proto-primates, ancestors of humans."
"Ancient Terra's proto-primates gradually evolved into humans and various primates. Those altered by the Old Ones became the Jokaeros."
"They were created around the same time as the Orks. You could think of them as red-furred Orks."
Dorn asked sharply, "Do they also possess that gene-encoded technical instinct the Orks have?"
Caelan nodded. "Exactly so."
Like Orks, Jokaeros possess astonishing technical expertise. They can build various advanced technologies from scrap, just like Orks, whether starships or lascannons. They have a genetic-level, innate understanding of science and technology, an instinctive grasp of mechanics and technology. This likely relates to the purpose for which the Old Ones created them; they are a race adept at technological mimicry.
Orks are naturally belligerent. Jokaeros are the opposite; they are generally quite docile. They don't settle on fixed worlds but roam the galaxy in their starships.
While Jokaeros may occasionally raid, their targets are usually poorly defended power stations, farms, or remote mining vessels, and they always hit and run, never lingering.
Genetically speaking, Jokaeros are closer to abhumans than xenos. Although their origin isn't from the Dark Age, if you look closely, Blanks are also an abhuman race created by the Old Ones. The Pariah Genes for being a Blank were encoded into the genetic material of ancient Terra's proto-primates tens of millions of years ago.
"Is the timing too coincidental?"
Dorn frowned deeply. 'The Ork threat was imminent. The Phalanx needed urgent repairs. Yet these Jokaeros just happened to show up now. Was such a coincidence truly possible?'
Dorn remained highly vigilant internally, but he wouldn't show it in front of these 'abhumans'.
No sooner had the Jokaeros' vessel docked than these red-furred beings of unknown late years eagerly poured onto the Phalanx. They completely ignored the mortal soldiers pointing guns at them, running their hands over the Phalanx's deck and walls, caressing them with a near-devout gentleness, their eyes frighteningly excited.
Dorn approached one of the Jokaeros. Though these xenos were indistinguishable to mortal eyes, the Primarch could still tell, based on subtle differences, that this was the one he had just communicated with.
"I am Rogal Dorn."
The Jokaero made a gurgling sound in its nose. Caelan continued translating, "I am Caesar."
While translating, Caelan's psychic power spread out like invisible ripples, probing the Jokaeros' thoughts to ensure there was no corruption among them.
These red-furred beings suddenly turned their heads in unison, their stares fixed intently on Caelan. They seemed able to sense the psychic intrusion, but they didn't react violently; they just stared at Caelan with great curiosity.
Caelan gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Dorn understood. His voice betrayed nothing. "This is my empire, my ship. Why have you come?"
Caesar lowered its head, whether in thought or consulting its kin, but remained silent throughout. When the red-furred creature looked up again, it made its request.
"We want to live here. What payment do you require?" Caelan translated accurately.
"The reason?"
"We want to study its technology." Caesar's gaze probed into the Phalanx's interior, seeming impatient.
"What can you offer us in return?"
"Technology of equal value." Caesar's reply was short but compelling.
"How long do you intend to stay?"
"Forever."
"How many of you are there?"
"Six hundred and sixty-six."
Then came a long silence. The quiet pressed down on everyone like a physical weight.
"If you can complete the Phalanx's restoration within one month, you may study its technology. But you must sign a strategic cooperation agreement with the Inwit Empire, providing technology of equal value and all technologies you derive from the Phalanx."
"Furthermore, you must submit to examination by my father to ensure none of you are corrupted."
"For your own safety, you must be protected by my men while aboard the Phalanx."
"If you wish to leave the Phalanx, you must obtain permission from either myself or my father."
Dorn's conditions were quite harsh. He had intended for the xenos to bargain.
But the Jokaero extended its red-furred hand in a human manner. It could understand human language, just didn't speak it, or perhaps disdained to. Jokaero communication resembled telepathy, far more efficient than spoken language, so they had naturally dispensed with conventional speech. Perhaps the Jokaeros saw humans as the uncontacted monkeys, unable to use such simple telepathy.
And Dorn's harsh demands perhaps didn't seem harsh to it. As long as it wasn't prevented from doing research, nothing else mattered. Just as Orks can't comprehend invasion, they just fight; who or how they fight is irrelevant.
Dorn shook Caesar's hand, signaling agreement.
"I have one more question. I hope you can answer truthfully."
"What drove you to come to Inwit?"
Caesar scratched its chest with a finger wearing several rings.
Dorn's attention never left those rings, all fashioned into the shape of firearms. He didn't believe they were mere decorations; he sensed a threat from them.
"It was an accident. They didn't intentionally sail to Inwit. They were swept along by a Warp current."
As Caelan translated, his expression grew strange.
"They claim this accidental voyage led them to an invaluable treasure. The Phalanx's technological value is enough to keep them researching for a lifetime."
"They also say that unless you use force to expel them, they intend to put down roots here and never leave."
Dorn's lip twitched involuntarily.
'Are these xenos serious?'
...
30 Chapters patreon.com/DaoistJinzu