"Step back."
The Primarch's voice was undeniable, dismissing the Gene-sons who wanted to step forward and argue, as he said to the Chief Investigator, "I do not know why such a thing occurred."
"You also said that the Astropath sent an Astropathic Choir Message on their own, without receiving any instructions."
"As the supreme Commander of the battleship, I indeed bear some responsibility, but I am unaware of what specifically the Astropath sent, and I am willing to cooperate with the investigation."
Solas's thoughts were clear; he first picked out evidence favorable to himself, and then, with a few candid words, he once again stood on the moral high ground.
The Primarch stated he was unaware. Without direct evidence, no one dared to terminate the Primarch's authority based solely on conjecture.
Furthermore, saying he was willing to cooperate seemed like a candid concession, but was actually a strategic move to regain the initiative by asking how he should cooperate.
If the Investigation Team had no concrete leads, the matter of cooperation would be moot.
The Chief Investigator's aged skin twitched slightly, barely managing a look of trepidation. "I would certainly not doubt a Son of the Emperor, nor a Space Marine Legion."
"But this matter is suspicious, and we cannot ignore it."
He changed the subject, his cloudy eyes looking at the messengers of each Legion: "Now you are the Warmaster, with ten Legions awaiting your command, bearing the future of the entire Imperium of Man."
"Every command issued by this battleship concerns the lives of hundreds of millions of Imperial soldiers; information security cannot be neglected in the slightest."
The Chief Investigator was shrewd and did not directly delve into the details. His language was filled with artistry as he turned to stand upon the cause of righteousness, every word brimming with concern.
He was not wrong; information security cannot be ignored, as any order involves the lives of hundreds of millions.
Just then, the rotating representative of the Messenger Corps turned in unison to look at the Primarch, waiting for a solution.
The messengers could never tolerate their respective Legions paying a price on the battlefield due to information leaks from headquarters.
"What does the Chief Investigator think should be done?" Solas sighed helplessly. For tens of thousands of years, overt schemes in human society have been inescapable.
Under such righteousness, Solas had no choice but to ask for the Chief Investigator's opinion, which undoubtedly yielded the initiative.
The Chief Investigator took advantage of the situation, tremulously proposing a solution: "The Messenger Corps and the Investigation Team will send representative members to join the Second Legion personnel in the Astropathic Hall to strictly supervise the execution of Astropathic Choir Messages."
The plan he proposed was selfless, allowing all Legions to participate and jointly supervise the sending of Astropathic Choir Messages.
Once the plan was announced, not only did the Messenger Corps approve, but the Second Legion Warriors also nodded deeply, their gaze toward the Chief Investigator softening considerably.
The old man showed no favoritism and stood entirely from the perspective of the war effort; he was a man of great righteousness.
"Very well," Solas smiled, nodding in approval of the plan.
He knew this could not be stopped. If he showed resistance, it would give the Investigation Team an opportunity to launch another attack.
[At this point, I hope readers remember our domain name 101kanshu.com, which is very considerate; 101kks.com is waiting for you to read.]
The Chief Investigator bowed deeply to the Primarch and left supported by his attendants, having successfully completed his task and fulfilled the requirements of another Primarch.
Beside the Primarch's throne, Alpharius leaned on his power halberd, glancing at the departing Investigation Team.
He withdrew his gaze from afar, looking not too pointedly at his brother's back, waiting for the subsequent effects to ferment.
With external communications severed, he would see how Solas would respond.
The plan was quickly deployed, with each Messenger Corps sending two people to be stationed in the Astropathic Hall to audit the sending and receiving of Astropathic Choir Messages.
Solas's expression remained normal as he made some deployments on the tactical sand table, then left the bridge to go to the lounge to rest.
Alpharius, as usual, led the Primarchs Guard behind the Primarch, completed the handover with the garrison guard, and lined up to stand guard in front of the lounge door.
As for the inside of the lounge, no one from the Second Legion had ever entered.
As the door slowly closed and the lounge's sensor lights gradually brightened, the interior of the room was revealed.
The lounge was merely a name; its internal space was vast, and it would not be an exaggeration to call it a "palace."
When the Glorious Queen battleship was built, it was designed to be a Primarch's flagship; after all, only the greatest battleship is worthy of a Primarch.
There was nothing unusual in the palace; the lighting was soft and the temperature was comfortable. Ornate curtains covered the broadside, with a large bed at one end of the room and an office desk and bookshelf at the other.
Soft carpets covered the floor, and various honorary weapons hung on the walls, among which a war mace was the most prominent.
A statue of the Emperor stood in the middle of the hall, lifelike, with eyes that seemed to scrutinize the door as if they had a spirit of their own.
Solas walked past the statue, stepped onto the soft carpet to pull open the ornate curtains, and stood before the porthole looking out, taking in the entire lush galaxy. A sharp light occasionally flashed in his calm eyes.
"I know. Although it's a pity, it's indeed time to leave."
He murmured to the sea of stars, yet it seemed as if he were conversing with another: "Information is being blocked; I have no value here anymore."
"They must have noticed something; from the start of the Warmaster nomination, I seem to have fallen into a great net."
"Before they make a move, I must leave the center of the whirlpool as quickly as possible."
"The Legion?" Solas's brow furrowed, and a flash of resentment crossed his thin face as he subconsciously raised his voice: "Are you commanding me?"
"Recognize your position; many things are not within your control, nor are they within mine."
There was no response in the palace, only the rows of steel cannons outside the porthole and the endless starry sky at the end of the deck.
Beneath the deck, within the twenty-five-kilometer-long Glorious Queen battleship, it was as busy as a supercity, with mortal thralls maintaining the ship's operation like worker ants.
The Adamantine decks were clearly layered, and the elevators rasped with the sound of friction as Legion Warriors rode them down to the lower decks of the battleship.
The two Doom Slayers had an extraordinary aura; one had a Black Aquila perched on his right shoulder, and the other had a Mechanical Hound crouching by his leg.
They were accompanied by the Captain of the Second Legion's Seventh Company as they headed to the battleship prison to investigate the Astropath who had been arrested for illegal communication.
As the elevator continued to descend, the atmosphere gradually became eerie. The smell of engine oil and the metallic scent of iron mixed in the air, assaulting the superhuman senses of the Space Marines.
The lower decks of the battleship were like a different world compared to the upper decks.
There was no glory or honor here; only the lowliest serfs worked silently, their thin bodies crawling between giant machines, using all their strength to drive the steel beast.
In the depths of the dark corridors, amidst the pumping of pistons, there were faint sounds of infants crying.
No matter how difficult the environment, life finds a way.
The elevator stopped with a clatter, and as the tall warriors stepped out, many hunched figures in the darkness knelt down, offering blessings in various dialects of Low Gothic.
They didn't know the Legion's organization; they simply knew that they must kneel before the lords who came down from the upper decks.
Ignoring the ship's serfs, the group continued forward to the prison area, where the view suddenly opened up.
Ironically, the conditions in the prison were thousands of times better than those of the lower-deck serfs.
The steel corridors were clean and tidy, with rows of cages shimmering with laser grids. The Warden was already waiting to one side.
"This is it." The Legion Warden spread his hands, indicating that the destination was just ahead.
At the next corner, the Astropath in the cage had been stripped of their robes and was tied naked to an interrogation cross.
Their senses had been damaged in the Psychic Binding Ritual; their eyes were a grayish-white, expanders were stuffed into their mouths, and a large amount of saliva dripped from the corners of their lips.
Rusty chains hung around their necks, tethered to a bone of a Soulless One used to suppress psychic powers and prevent their souls from being extinguished.
It could be said that to prevent the Astropath from self-annihilating, the protection work had been done very well, greatly avoiding the situation where the witness would be dead.
"Let us through." Astra, Blazkowicz, looked up and signaled to open the laser grid; he wanted to go in and conduct the interrogation personally.
"This—" The Warden hesitated slightly; despite wearing power armor, his subtle body movements showed his hesitation.
The Seventh Company Captain quickly signaled to open the door; he didn't want to let the brother Legion exercise their military requisition rights again.
Helplessly, the Warden pressed his hand on the door's control panel; the genetic code identification passed, and the glowing laser grid immediately disappeared.
The four entered the cell. The Astropath sensed someone coming, and their body twisted on the cross, making '"
Wuwu" sounds.
Astra did not ask questions. The Mechanical Hound stepped forward, its steel mouth opening as its tongue split to extend flexible mechanical tentacles.
The Warden and the Seventh Company Captain were amazed, watching the mechanical tentacles extend a probe that pierced through the prisoner's ear into their brain.
The Astropath's back straightened, the probe churned in their brain, and their limbs subconsciously twitched, instinctively resisting the investigation.
Woof~ Woof~
The hound's vox-array system barked. Blazkowicz snapped his head up and gripped his weapon, looking sternly at the Warden and the Seventh Company Captain.
"Wh—what's wrong?" The atmosphere suddenly changed, and the cold killing intent made the latter's spine chill as he asked hesitantly.
Blazkowicz did not speak. The hound's green eyes flashed with red light, projecting a holographic image of a dark green brain with tentacles, slowly rotating in the air.
"Rangdan infection?!!!"
The Second Legion Warriors cried out in shock, their voices filled with utter disbelief; what they saw before them exceeded their psychological expectations.
Just as they reacted, a blue power blade was already pressed against their necks.