dmims Chapter 40 The Attack
Chapter 40 The Attack
"science and technology?"
"Some people are puzzled," someone asked.
"Yes." Paris nodded, pointing to the weapon he had placed on the ground.
A ferocious rifle that perfectly blends flesh and technology.
"I have never used it," Paris said seriously.
"You did the right thing," Lestrade nodded in satisfaction.
"This was never supposed to be your job. The Empire strictly forbids humanity from using alien artifacts and technology, and we must abide by that rule."
"Should we hand it over to the Cult of Mechanics for study?" Paris asked.
Upon hearing this, Lestrade smiled, and the veterans of the First Company smiled too.
They all shook their heads in opposition, and said to all the new recruits around them, "This matter must not be known to the Cult of Mechanics, at least not from our side."
Although the Mechanicus on Mars is an ally of the Empire and one of the Twin Eagles, both the Empire and the Mechanicus are inherently reserved and wary.
In particular, the Mechanicus on Mars, according to many of the technical sergeants who had studied there, had expressed a vague sense of internal chaos and complex beliefs.
Not everyone believes in emperors, and not everyone is a friend of humanity.
This is something that many veterans who fought in the Terra unification war and the war to reclaim the solar system are well aware of.
"Please continue." Lestrade waved his hand, stopping the friendly laughter.
Paris was puzzled, but he didn't intend to ask any further questions.
"They also possess extremely strong psychic abilities, enabling them to enslave and control human minds, making humans willingly become their food."
"They must be removed immediately!" Sopa roared.
This is no longer an ordinary, dangerous alien; we must report it to the Father of Genetics immediately and deliver a heavy blow.
"I will dig out their bones," Lestrade said coldly.
The sudden defection of Sokas's squad had long since made this intelligence unsurprising to him.
Seeing that Paris had no intention of continuing, and that he seemed to have made all the key points clear, he then...
Lestrade crouched down and personally experienced the body structure and hardness of the Kraf Xenomorph.
"Send these alien data and corpses back," Lestrade said.
As a newly discovered alien, the Second Legion needs to inform the Empire of the danger posed by its existence and allow the Empire to define the level of danger and operational requirements for it.
"You did a great job." Lestrade patted Paris on the shoulder.
He did not flatter or fawn over the other party because of their status; on the battlefield, there are only soldiers who obey their superiors' orders.
Paris, as a soldier, perfectly completed his mission, and he deserves this praise.
"Yes, sir!" Paris straightened up and pounded his fist on his chest.
Even the heavy shoulder armor could feel Lestrade's hand slapping down, heavy with weight and expectation.
This equal and fair recognition also pleased Paris.
"The Soika team has lost contact."
At that moment, a report came from the communications officer.
The last squad that hadn't yet returned delivered the devastating news of his death.
Just from reconnaissance, one squad defected, and five squads were lost without any news, for a total loss of eighteen Astartes.
The news put Lestrade under immense pressure, and the atmosphere shifted from the initial joy of Paris bringing the news to a heavy and angry one.
"Damn aliens," Onosque gritted his teeth.
Salpedon nodded in agreement; not only him, but everyone agreed with what Onosque said, and they echoed it wildly in their hearts.
"What are we waiting for, sir?" Paris asked.
"Wait for us, soldiers."
Footsteps and harsh, grating sounds came from not far away.
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"Twenty meters."
Sounds came from Astartes' communication channels.
The Dawnguard warriors split into different formations and charged forward at top speed.
Lestrade, sword and shield in hand, led the charge. Ordinary bullets used to maintain order only managed to shatter the silver paint on the power armor of these warriors.
"Run, we have to run."
"Run!"
How could the Iron Seven Defense Force, which had only fought the most basic counterinsurgency battles, possibly compete with the powerful modified warriors of the Great Expedition? Lacking heavy weapons, their formation began to crumble as the first man fled.
boom!
Gunshots rang out.
The fleeing defender had a huge hole in his body.
"Go back, all of you!"
The sergeant shot the deserter and shouted.
But his supervision was futile, and the battle lines continued to collapse.
The four Astartes, leading a square formation of at least fifty men, were even more adept than the locals at seizing the high points and hidden bunkers along the streets.
Lestrade's charging posture resembled a small truck rampaging recklessly; as his sword flashed and a cold light gleamed, the corpses of the defenders would fly up.
He is unmatched and unstoppable.
until--
Lestrade rolled to the left to avoid it.
Because he saw it. He saw the defenders who were desperately running backwards turn into chunks of flying flesh, being torn apart alive amidst the dull, rhythmic roar of machine guns.
Lestrade's roll was not entirely ineffective.
Even a warrior as transcendent as Astartes could not stop the bullets fired from a large-caliber machine gun.
"Sir."
It was Paris's voice. Lestrade didn't turn around; he kept his eyes fixed on the machine gun that was still firing continuously, ignoring the overheating barrel.
The officer who had been supervising the battle also became one of those killed in the indiscriminate firing.
Lestrade raised his right hand to shield his vulnerable head, and the deflecting field, a feature typically reserved for company-level and above equipment, deflected the machine gun bullets aimed at him.
"Sir." Paris rushed to Lestrade's side, holding the shield he had taken.
The massive square shield completely concealed the two of them behind them, while machine gun bullets continued to whistle.
"Well done, soldier," Lestrade praised without hesitation.
He drew his plasma pistol from his waist, charged it behind the firing port on his shield, and once the charge was complete, an energy bullet powerful enough to pierce through heavy armor was fired.
Suddenly, a vacuum appeared in the crossfire position that had been suppressing the howling fire.
"Charge!"
"For Hector!"
The chainsaw sword in Sopa's hand emitted a terrifying, thunderous roar, as if telling its master that it had long craved blood.
The Dawnguards on this route abandoned their heavy shields and picked up their slug guns, charging rapidly into the briefly silenced passage.
"Sopa!" Lestrade shouted in displeasure as Sopa charged into the enemy ranks and began a bloody massacre.
However, he only shouted it once.
"Sir, I think this is necessary," Paris said. "We must advance quickly."
"No." Lestrade also rushed into the battle, with the broken circuitry behind him constantly flashing with sparks.
"He was simply craving killing, not thinking rationally."