Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 174 The Internet Project (6)

Deep within the network, node 0124 is the hub.

The thirty-eighth day of infiltration.

A cold, psychic light poured down from the dome three hundred kilometers high, spreading a constant white halo at the bottom of the cavity. The four artillery barges maintained the precise coordinates of their ambush positions, their shadow fields blending seamlessly with the background noise of the net channel, so much so that even the psychic pulses of the sacred bone wall itself did not shift due to their presence. The Pale Judgment was embedded in the shadow at the edge of the wall, its hull curvature precisely matching the wall's arc, the double-layered shadow field pressing the entire ship beneath the noise layer of the net channel's psychic background.

Cohen's Stormbird hovered close beneath the Pale Judgment's side armor plates, its shadow field completely obscuring the two ships' signature signals. He remained nearly motionless in the cockpit, his power armor's life support systems switched to low-power mode, his visor half-open, circulating air seeping in through the filter, carrying the distinctive cold metallic scent of the mesh. The timer in the engine room ticked away, the numbers on the screen scrolling calmly and slowly.

Weeks of standby stretched each moment out. The servants maintained a minimal self-check cycle, the tech priests entered a low-power state of the Mechanicus meditation protocol at their respective posts, the main force of the Kara rotated shifts in the cabins, and the Storm Commandos maintained a pre-battle quiet in the darkness, not so much like they were poised to strike, but rather like they had already merged with the darkness.

Cohen sat in the pilot's seat of the Stormbird, gazing through the extended field of view array at the three-kilometer-wide outline of the portal on the far side of the cavity. The patterns of the sacred bone silently unfolded in the cold light, Baroque-style reliefs extending along the arch's curves, each groove holding a deposit of psionic energy older than the history of the Empire. He had been observing those patterns for weeks, observing that they had become part of the background, as natural as breathing, requiring no conscious attention.

Then, a sudden change occurred. The cold, psionic light emanating from the network wall pulsed slightly for a fleeting moment, like a very low heartbeat spreading through the psionic energy channels. The texture on the inner wall of the main door 0124's frame changed from pale white to undulating, like a reflection on water ruffled by the wind. As Cohen sensed the change, he reached out and pushed up his mask; the sound of the airtight latches snapping shut was exceptionally clear in the silent cabin.

"Main gate activated." His voice came through the communication channel, calm and devoid of any extra emotion. "Fleet, maintain silence. Weapon systems warm up. Do not expose firing positions before enemy ships pass. Confirmed."

"Pale Judgment confirmed." Marcus's voice followed closely, precise and restrained. "All status lights on the artillery barge are green. Weapon systems warm-up complete."

Cohen tightened his grip on the control stick for a moment, then released it. The Stormbird's engines started at extremely low power, and the machine silently glided out of the Pale Judgment's shadow, descending along the arc of the Sacred Bone wall towards the bottom of the cavity. The Shadow Field maintained full power, the thrusters were reduced to minimum pulses, and the machine was almost completely transparent in the cold psionic light. He lowered the Stormbird to a height close to the bottom of the cavity, moving it along an almost silent trajectory towards the main gate. The outline of the main gate in the expanded vision array gradually became clear in the psionic ripples.

The ripples in the void continued to expand. The bone wall became transparent amidst the ripples, its edges curling inward, like a curtain being pushed from within. Cohen brought the Stormbird to a stop against a natural indentation in the bone wall, the vision expansion array locked onto the main gate exit, and the helmet's recording array activated simultaneously.

The first ship emerged from the ripples.

The silhouette of the Nightscythe-class reconnaissance ship emerged with incredible speed. Its shadow field was unstable as it crossed the network boundary, and a haze of distorted light and sensor signals formed a shifting dark curtain around the hull. The artillery barges did not wait for orders. The plasma macrocannons of Anvil One and Anvil Three opened fire the instant the reconnaissance ship fully appeared.

The first shot grazed the edge of the shadow force field, causing it to fluctuate violently but not collapse; the second shot hit the center of the force field fluctuation at the same moment, and the force field exploded and separated after the overload superimposed; the third shot followed closely behind, hitting the exposed side of the ship's hull before the force field could recover, melting through the armor and causing the internal energy conduit to break and leak emerald green fluid; the fourth shot hit the ship's engine nozzle base, shattering the reactor and causing the entire ship to break apart from the stern.

A halo of light emanated from the edge of the cavity wall, briefly spreading before dissipating in the cold, psionic white light. The four gunboats maintained minimal attitude adjustments, their gun barrels returned to their positions, and their firing positions remained undetected. The Pale Judgment remained in shadow, its light spears not activated.

The second Nightscythe-class corvette crossed in the same pattern. The response sequence for bombarding the barge had been practiced countless times. A shadow field was stripped away in the first salvo, the engine failed during the follow-up fire, and the wreckage slid into the edge of the cavity. The battle ended in a very short time.

Then a third ship emerged. The void ripples pulsated violently even before its passage—the ship's sheer size was compressing the energy field of the gate. The silhouette of the Torture-class cruiser emerged from the ripples, its hull larger than the previous three ships combined, almost filling a third of the main gate's width. The shadow field operated at even higher power, distorting the mist and condensing it into a denser protective barrier. Its armor plates bore bright white burn marks left by the friction between the cosmic vacuum and the boundary of the psionic network—marks accumulated from thousands, even hundreds, of crossings of the network.

The Pale Judgment opened fire the instant the Torture-class cruiser fully appeared. The four gunboats simultaneously shifted positions—Number Two took over Number One's flank firing arc, Number Three climbed to gain a downward firing angle, and Number Four remained at the bottom, continuously firing at the engine nozzles. Anvil One's plasma macrocannon hit the edge of the force field below the bridge, while Anvil Three's salvo struck the propeller area from above, the force field weakening under the continuous impact. Anvil Two's fire cut into the weak point of the force field from the flank, the emerald green aura spreading continuously, the force field thickness visibly decreasing.

As the fluctuation frequency dropped below the critical value, the Pale Judgment's light lance fired a beam of blue-white energy at full power, piercing the residual force field and melting a penetrating wound into the armor surface of the starboard attitude thruster base. The plasma macrocannon continued its barrage, with Anvil One striking the armor joint below the bridge, and Anvil Three followed up with a shot that hit the concentrated energy conduit area amidships, exploding into a series of intermittent fireballs on the side. The Pale Judgment's second light lance struck the stern engine nozzle, leaving a deep molten mark on the reactor confinement chamber. The Torture-class cruiser's shadow force field finally collapsed, the attitude thrusters lost most of their output, and the deflection rate degraded into slow, inertial gliding.

It attempted to retaliate—the three broadside turrets turned toward the Pale Judgment—but the Anvil 4's macro gun struck the port turret base before the turret reached firing position, causing the turret to break off, tumble in the vacuum, and collide with another turret, resulting in a chain reaction of failures.

"The thrusters are severely damaged, and the shadow field has been stripped away. The ship remains a threat, and attempts are being made to restore attitude control."

Marcus's voice rang out on the communications channel, calm and precise: "Pale Judgment, hold the anchor structure."

Prepare for impact.

The Pale Judgment slid out of the shadows of the wall, its thrusters switching to full power for a short burst of acceleration. The adamantite ram was aimed at the cruiser's bridge, slightly raising its angle at the last moment before impact. Its tip precisely pierced the seam of the armor beneath the bridge, concentrating the entire hull's kinetic energy at the tip, penetrating the bottom armor layer and embedding itself inside the bridge, where it became stuck. The impact shockwave created a brief gravitational anomaly in the Pale Judgment's bridge, and Marcus's right mechanical eye completed three independent calibrations in an instant.

"Battalion secured. Boarding ramp ready for advance."

A fourth ship emerged from the void ripples at the main gate. Consistent with the earlier reconnaissance, it was another Nightscythe-class corvette. The firepower of the four gunships stripped away its shadow field, disabled its propulsion, and caused it to lose attitude control within a very short time. Subsequently, three gunships deployed their boarding ramps, while one maintained perimeter scanning. The handling method was consistent with the first three ships.

This kind of ambush warfare within the network, utilizing the information isolation between the real universe and the network's interior, is surprisingly effective. Cohen noticed another detail in Stormbird: when stray bullets and fragments struck the wall of the sacred bone, the psionic energy channels near the point of impact would briefly light up, dispersing the impact throughout the network before returning to normal. Whether the bombardment was in the form of energy or the impact in physical form, it would be absorbed by the network's own psionic energy cycle, making ordinary attacks extremely limited in their damage to the network.

Cohen stopped looking at the battlefield; all plans were geared towards his mission.

Before the void ripples at the main gate began to shrink, the Stormbird's thrusters switched from hovering to full power. The psionic rift in their field of vision was closing in from its three-kilometer width, the sacred bone patterns on its edges gradually returning to their original positions as it closed. The Stormbird hurtled past the edge of the gate frame. In the instant of passage, a fleeting halo formed at the boundary between the network and the cosmic vacuum—the cold psionic light faded, and the dark orange glow of a standard K-type star poured in from the porthole, carried by the thin stellar wind, spreading a dim, warm hue across the Stormbird's armor plating. Only one planet was extremely close to the star, its surface scorched by radiation into a dark gray molten crust, devoid of atmosphere, water, and signs of life. The star's middle and outer layers were filled with a dense asteroid belt, fragments ranging from gravel to hundreds of kilometers in diameter, drifting slowly in the gravitational field. No trace of civilization was found; no signal towers, no orbital facilities, no artificial light sources. The sensor swept across the entire airspace, revealing only faint patches of light reflected from the metal of the asteroid belt.

Cohen locked onto the rear side. The secondary gate frame stood silently in the void, the three-kilometer-wide spirit bone archway gleaming with the dark orange glow of the stars. The geometric patterns built by the Eldar extended along the arc of the gate frame, each groove casting a long, thin shadow in the starlight. The field expanded, covering every inch of the gate frame's surface, and the decomposition command was issued. The spirit bone surface transformed into clouds at the atomic level, surging into the warehouse, and the lattice structure of the psionic energy guiding patterns was peeled away layer by layer. The decomposition speed was twice as fast as Chogris's time; the repeated operations at the Garros node had greatly improved his efficiency. Ten minutes later, the reshaping began. Atoms were retrieved from the warehouse and re-condensed according to the standard blueprint of the Garros network gate. The spirit bone frame grew out of the void, confirming the protocol embedded in the psionic energy guiding layer, activating the waveform written into the gate frame structure.

As the field receded from the last inch of the spirit bone surface, he confirmed the door was ready. This secondary door would correctly connect to the main door 0124, integrating it into the Garros network. Garros's network transportation system would now have a major exit node.

The Stormbird waited in place. A ripple of void energy emanated from the inside of the doorway—Isha's psionic forces had activated as planned, commencing activation from the main door towards the secondary door; the door was responding. The ripple spread from the center of the doorway to the edges, and the cold psionic light rekindled along the arch's curve.

Back through the network tunnel. The hollow outline beneath the dome unfolded once more. In the distance, the Pale Judgment remained anchored to the Torture-class cruiser, its boarding ramps already laid. The bombardment barge maintained its guard position, wreckage slowly drifting away.

Cohen hovered low along the edge of the cavity, and as he passed through the wreckage area of ​​the frigate, a live feed of the boarding party briefly popped up on the onboard sensor panel. Inside the broken bulkheads of the Nightscythe-class frigate, restraint cells lined the broken walls. Hundreds of thousands of people huddled in the cramped, dark compartments, their bodies contorted at various angles in weightlessness. Some were still alive, others were motionless. Beams of combat lights swept in from the cracks in the bulkheads, illuminating countless cracked lips and sunken eye sockets. Those who saw the power armor and the gear-and-skull insignia lowered their heads within their restraints. Cohen watched for a moment, then reached out and shut down the transmission.

Stormbirds turned smoothly, their thruster exhaust trails leaving thin streaks of light in the cavity as they glided toward the Pale Judgment. The desolate star system on the real universe side had no population to plunder; those imprisoned must have come from elsewhere—this star system was merely a transit point, meaning there was more than one network node.

The Stormbird came to a stop in the Pale Judgment's hangar, circulating air gushing from the gangway. Cohen walked through the main passageway toward the bridge.

The airtight door slid open. Marcus stood behind the tactical console, the blue halo of his right mechanical eye switching steadily between projected data and Cohen's image.

"All four enemy ships have been dealt with. The cruiser and the second frigate have been secured, and the boarding party is clearing out any remaining resistance. Preliminary estimates indicate that there are over a million surviving Imperial citizens in the cargo hold of the Torture-class cruiser, and there are also survivors in the wreckage of the frigate. The medical team has boarded the ship and established a temporary sorting point."

Cohen sat down in the commander's chair, the backrest reclining slightly as he did so. "Marcus, this door belongs to Garros."

Controlled by the Galos Network Psionic Force. The Pale Judgment needs to enter the real-world space as soon as possible to confirm its coordinates and activate the fleet.

Marcus confirmed, "Understood." His fingers danced across the communication panel, but he didn't immediately issue the crossing command. He first checked the real-time status and transfer progress of the boarding team.

Hours later, the boarding party's reports were updated sequentially via the sensor panels. The core section of the Torture-class cruiser had been completely cleared. The main force of the Stormstrike Force began its withdrawal, returning to the Pale Judgment along the boarding tunnel. The rotating mechs and frigates marched in formation through the tunnel, entering the Torture-class cruiser's side entrance to take over the boarding party's clearing operations.

Mass medics were deployed from the Pale Judgment and entered the cargo hold of the Torture-class cruiser via the boarding passageway. The restraints on the cells were cut one by one, and the first batch of rescued personnel were lifted from their cells, their bodies contorted in various unnatural angles in the low gravity. Medical medics set up a sorting point at the cargo hold entrance, prioritizing the transfer of the seriously wounded, while the lightly wounded awaited the next group.

The entire Thunderhawk transport fleet was released, and forty-two transport ships slid out of the Pale Judgment's hangar one after another. The thrusters left long, thin blue streaks in the air as they dispersed towards the frigate wreckage. They hovered at the edge of the broken bulkhead of the frigate wreckage, and the servitors climbed along the fractured surface into the interior space. The restraints were cut, and the huddled-up individuals were steadily lifted out by the servitors' mechanical arms and sent into the open cargo hold of the transport ships in a state of weightlessness.

As the first batch of transport ships returned fully loaded, a temporary receiving area had been set up on the hangar's landing deck. Medical teams lined up at the edge of the receiving area. After each transport ship landed, crew members carried unconscious or weakened personnel one by one from the cargo hold, placing them on folding stretchers. After initial vital sign confirmation by the medical team, they were transferred to the Pale Judgment's temporary medical bay. The second and third batches of transport ships took off alternately. Four artillery barges maintained vigilance over the network node hub, sensors locking onto every direction of the cavity entrance.

Kara's voice came through the communication panel: "The entire Storm Commando has withdrawn. Mechs and the Cleric have taken over and are clearing the remaining sections of the Torture-class cruiser and the passable parts of the frigates. The cleanup is expected to take several more hours."

"Understood." Cohen didn't give any further instructions. Marcus added, "Once the cleanup is complete, the Guardians will be stationed on-site and work with the mechs to maintain control of the area."

About nine hours later, Cohen glanced at the data panel showing the number of people awaiting evacuation. Over a million were still trapped between sections of the ships. Transport ships were slowly transferring people in batches, but a complete evacuation would take several days, and the Pale Judgment's capacity was clearly insufficient. He couldn't wait any longer.

"Marcus, do you have any information about where these kidnapped people came from?"

"According to those who are awake, they come from Maraudon."

Cohen nodded to indicate that he understood. "Call the artillery barge Anvil One. He will command the fleet remaining at the hub to continue the alert, while coordinating the transfer operations of the Thunderhawk transport fleet to the barge. Have the medical department send personnel to take over. If there is insufficient space, find cabins with intact life support systems within the enemy cruisers and house them on the spot. The subsequent fleet will handle the situation after it arrives from Garros."

Marcus turned to the communications panel and pressed the channel on Anvil One: "Anvil One, command transfer. You are responsible for maintaining the fleet remaining at the hub on alert. You will coordinate the transport fleet's transfer operations. If the network is shut down during this period, remain on standby until it is reactivated before proceeding to the next step."

Anvil One confirmed: "Received. I will coordinate the transfer operations of the transport fleet. At the same time, maintain vigilance. I will arrange for medical sorting personnel and servitude to establish temporary shelters in the passenger cabin area of ​​the enemy cruiser, prioritizing the use of cabins with basic life support capabilities."

Marcus put down the comms button and broadcast to the entire ship: "Azure Hundred Trial, preparing to undocking. All departments, take note."

The boarding gate is about to close. The crossing window is set for twenty minutes later.

The boarding ramps began to retract, the latches releasing one by one. Short bursts of ion jets shot from the attitude thrusters as the ship slowly retreated from the side of the Torture-class cruiser. On the metal fractured at the edge of the crack, the cooled molten traces gleamed a dark gray in the cold psionic light. A report from the Commander of the Guardian Legion came through the communications panel: "Our regiment continues its clearing operations inside the enemy cruiser and maintains the rescue personnel's presence. The accompanying medics are searching for a temporary shelter on site." The Data Artisan's mechanical voice chimed in: "Mechanical units confirmed, three battalions remaining. They have relieved the Stormstrike Forces at the forward positions." Marcus confirmed receipt: "Remaining formation recorded. Maintain communication."

The ship turned around, its bow aligned with the main gate. The ripples in the void around the main gate continued to unfold steadily, and the cold, psionic light of the nexus converged from the walls, curving towards the center along the arc of the Sacred Bone Arch.

The first mate's voice came from the bridge: "Tailoring is in place. Main door signal is stable. Go through the window and start the main engines in one minute."

Marcus glanced at the timer: "Ten seconds."

The countdown reached zero. The ship passed through the main gate. The cold psionic light faded from the portholes, and starlight poured in.

On the communications panel, Sera's voice came through: "The navigation team is comparing star charts. They are scanning the spectral characteristics of surrounding pulsars and stars, and positioning is expected to be completed in a few minutes."

The Pale Judgment activated its high-power sensor array, comparing the frequency signals of the pulsars one by one. The sound of surging electrical pulses could be heard inside the bridge, and the Thinker array was operating at full speed.

The people on the bridge waited quietly until Sera's voice rang out again: "Coordinates confirmed. The current star sector is located on the eastern edge of the Misty Sector, approximately a month's warp distance from Garros. No Imperial markings, unnamed, no known routes. The area is stable, and no anomalous signals have been detected."

Cohen said to Marcus, "Name the galaxy 'Broken.' Have Garros broadcast in interstellar language and activate the Third Fleet."

Marcus turned to the communications panel: "Hera, send the command to the Garros interstellar relay tower—activate the Garros Third Fleet and proceed to the current coordinate system. Name the system 'Shattered' and send it via interstellar language."

Hera's hoarse yet steady voice came through the communication panel: "Hera received. Encoding in progress." There was a moment of silence on the communication channel, then Hera's voice rang out again: "Star language sent. Encoding: Garros Third Fleet, set sail."

The coordinates of the broken galaxy have been sent.

Marcus replied: "Confirmed."

Cohen stood up and walked to the vision expansion array. The spirit bone archway gleamed with a dim, cold white light in the starlight, and the newly reshaped psionic patterns on its surface still bore the faint heat marks left by the field manipulation.

"You will continue to command the Pale Judgment, conducting in-depth exploration of this system and identifying potential risks. The technical priest team aboard the ship will carry out exploration missions, especially regarding the planet closest to our star—I need to know what else is on it besides radiation, and geologically speaking, planets with that kind of environment are more likely to contain rare minerals."

"I piloted the Stormbird alone and moved the Webgate to the asteroid belt. It's more concealed there and easier to collect resources later."

Marcus's right mechanical eye contracted briefly. "Understood. The Pale Judgment will begin scanning the system. Keep communication links active at all times."

Cohen nodded and turned to walk towards the hangar. The Stormbird glided out of the hangar and hovered at the edge of the netgate. The Pale Judgment's attitude thrusters adjusted their orientation, the main thrusters began preheating, and the bow turned toward the molten-shell planet.