There was deathly silence inside the Iron Blood. The ticking of instruments rang out incessantly, but the usual chatter had turned into quiet breathing.
The data was extremely ugly. Perturabo currently resembled a dormant volcano, with an expressionless mask formed by the cooled and accumulated dark gray rocks on his surface.
But everyone knew that beneath that thick rocky shell surged tumultuous magma on the verge of eruption.
Although under Perturabo's command the Iron Warriors had greatly reduced losses of ships, aside from the initial sortied cruiser squadron afterward losses were mostly lower grade older models.
But this still could not conceal his failure.
With the Primarch's astonishing insight, Perturabo understood that in his hundreds of calculations, if the enemy ships had not frozen for that moment at the end, then the Iron Blood would have poured down munitions like rain in the final moments.
The Primarch had confidence that the Pride of the Legion's firepower could shred those ships, but what if...
Sensing his thoughts slowly sliding towards the edge of this whirlpool, Perturabo felt his breathing grow heavier. He forced himself to steady it, because he could not show this. Aside from himself, there were always others happy to see his failures.
So he could not display his failure.
The sudden communication request felt like hammer blows against Perturabo's temples. An unexpected request from the Death Guard.
Just as expected.
Perturabo gave a silent bitter laugh in his heart. His brothers were always like this, climbing over each other's corpses in failure while maintaining superficial harmony, all the while mocking in the shadows.
Moreover, this Primarch from an agri world did not even have basic manners. Perturabo could already imagine Mortarion's ambiguous rural accent making sarcastic jabs.
Thinking of the scene ahead made anger and humiliation crash through Perturabo's soul like surging waves.
He cursed under his breath. Perturabo desperately wanted to smash something, tear something, rip off the ugly opposing face and crush it out of existence.
Just like when he had smashed that statue in the past.
Presumptuous clown's toy.
In the last moments before the Death Guard communication request would expire, the motionless Perturabo finally accepted it.
Crackling electric currents sounded as the unstable flickering silhouette unique to holoprojections appeared.
Perturabo loathed those electric sounds. They represented instability, accidents, changes, fragility.
Fragility.
Yet Mortarion's disgusting figure did not appear at the projection's center. His foul miasma was lazily drifting around the edges instead.
A Death Shroud occupied the middle. Unlike other Death Shrouds, one pauldron bore the cog mechanism icon of the Mechanicus, silently proclaiming his identity as a Techmarine.
Perturabo's brows furrowed slightly. He recognized this Death Guard as one of those Mortarion had brought aboard the Iron Blood previously.
Aside from the Iron Hands and Iron Warriors, these Mechanicus devotees did not occupy high positions among other Legions.
In the Iron Hands, Ferrus Manus allowed subordinates to worship the doctrines of Mars, fostering good relations between them and the Mechanicus.
As for the Iron Warriors, Perturabo loathed those Techpriests who scorned and rejected flesh alterations. Under his directive, the Iron Warriors had always striven to develop their own technical expertise, precisely to shake off reliance on those wretched little men.
Although he himself also openly maintained ties with many in the Mechanicus, compared to orthodox Techpriests Perturabo actually favored those "hereteks" more.
After briefly rendering the Aquila salute, the Techmarine in the holoprojection spoke.
"Greetings Legion Master of the Iron Warriors. I am First Captain Death Shroud Hades."
The moment Hades opened his mouth, Perturabo realized this was the one who had privately communicated with Dantioch previously.
Perturabo's eyes narrowed. Those familiar with the Primarch knew this was a dangerous sign.
On the other end of the communication, Hades proceeded extremely cautiously as if treading on thin ice.
He kept his voice as calm and cold as possible, like that of a machine...er, or a Necron.
Having just endured the Necron fleet assault and seeing no immediate second wave attack, Hades hurriedly seized this brief respite to contact the Iron Warriors about plans going forward.
Mortarion had lazily allowed Hades to make the call since he did not want to see or speak with Perturabo either.
After witnessing Perturabo's commanded fleet maneuvers, Hades sensed...Mortarion feeling a bit down?
He wasn't certain. Trying to read expressions from Mortarion's face covered like an autistic person's was nigh impossible after all.
He could only judge by the Primarch's behavior. Mortarion did not immediately mock or "praise" Perturabo, so Hades assumed he was in average spirits presently.
Best not let the two Primarchs meet and converse again in any case. Hades was positive Mortarion had contemplated giving Perturabo a scythe during their last encounter.
The Necrons' next moves were still unclear. With the Death Guard fleet hidden at 106's satellite, they lacked reconnaissance abilities over 106 itself. Command of the war still lay in the Iron Warriors' hands.
What Hades did not know was after that earlier "freezing", no new Necron troops emerged from 106. The Necron warriors previously standing on the ground were also quickly wiped out by the rallied Iron Warriors.
For the moment, the entire battlefield turned exceptionally quiet.
Aside from the occasional Iron Warriors shots finishing off enemies, and the sounds of metal scraping on Necron corpses underfoot, nothing else could be heard.
After the naval battle, Perturabo did not order the Iron Warriors to keep advancing. Instead he began deploying anti-air defenses as well as more trenches, many more trenches.
Reconnaissance teams were dispatched to scout out the situation during this brief calm.
These matters occupied part of Perturabo's thoughts. The rest were devoted to communicating with the Death Guard.
Gazing at Hades opposite, he had no intention of speaking first.
Would that be an insult? For Mortarion to send a subordinate to discuss things amounted to obvious provocation.
Although in some cases, discussion between Legions did involve Primarchs sending trusted progeny as proxies.
But Perturabo still suspected the slow, obtuse malice simmering from Mortarion. It was like bubbles of miasma from a swamp, sickening Perturabo.
He would not speak first. He refused to give them opportunity to insult him. Perturabo bitterly regretted they were not physically present, so he could stride right up to this audacious Death Guard and threaten him face to face, then listen to the arrogant words from this self-important Death Guard.
"I am currently entrusted by Legion Master Mortarion to liaise and communicate with your Legion."
Hades spoke neither humbly nor loftily. Perturabo detected no fluctuations in his voice.
"As the military situation is urgent, pardon my dispensing with pleasantries."
Had to compliment that Hades grasped this point clearly.
"The Iron Warriors' recent naval battle was truly impressive. Commanding such an enormous fleet with intricate precision is genuinely breathtaking."
"It is scarcely imaginable that amidst such a complex grand-scale battlefield, such meticulous fine-tuned control can be exercised."
"I believe most ordinary people would be unable to appreciate the exquisiteness of these maneuvers."
Perturabo kept his arms folded, staring at the other side.
Mere praise from a common battle brother. As a Primarch, he had heard too much of it already. It was his due, meaningless formalities.
"And you as supreme commander of this battle must possess understanding of the enemy's situation far exceeding the Death Guard's. Thus the Death Guard hopes to share information as well as discuss subsequent tactics with the Iron Warriors."
Although Hades felt Mortarion was quite pissed when he said this, in a sense, discounting the spoiler-aware Hades, the Death Guard truly knew little regarding these aliens.
It was the truth, no mocking or malice, so Mortarion did not object.
Opposite, Perturabo still had his arms crossed. He shifted his attention back to deploying trenches down on 106.
In his mind's eye he "watched" his sons marching through the dust-wreathed mining area, the yellow sand dulling their metallic armor.
Then Perturabo looked back to the Death Guard's projection, white-green paint that resembled those fragile plants easily snapped.
"The Death Guard will have to follow my lead in subsequent combat."
Perturabo delivered his verdict, then directly closed off communications.
On the other end, Perturabo's projected silhouette disappeared with a crackling pop.
Hades was certain Mortarion had just sworn in Barbaran. He now likely contemplated giving Perturabo that unfinished scythe even more.
Of course, Hades also felt like cussing.
Although realistically, lacking sufficient campaign merit (Legion seniority, Mortarion's late discovery) and without their main fleet's arrival, the Death Guard would likely have assumed a supplementary role in the next battles anyway.
But the way Perturabo phrased it really pissed one off.
However, less than a second later the Death Guard received an information stream from the Iron Warriors.
The dense intricate data was perfectly organized, marked with Necron intelligence.
Gothic script and numbers skipped across the Death Guard's screens, compiling an image of the alien species.
And more - the terrain map of 106 as well as cross section diagrams of trenches under construction were also forwarded over.
The latter data especially surprised Hades. He set aside the useless emotions for now and began carefully analyzing them.
He blinked in astonishment.
This implied a high chance of the Death Guard engaging in ground combat next.
After all the Death Guard fleet currently could not match the Necron ships. But on the ground, the Death Guard wielded formidable might.
The data flow from the Iron Warriors still did not stop.
Perturabo marked out a red dot situated far behind 106's battlefield.
Hades queried it in bafflement —
Damnit, that was Moraarg and the other new Death Guards.
These Death Guards had been stationed by the Iron Warriors way at the back, together with Grye's forge acolytes.
If not for Perturabo's pointer, Hades might have forgotten there were still some new Death Guard recruits on 106 too.
The previously silent Mortarion also gave an awkward cough at this reminder.
Hades bet he'd forgotten about them as well.
This diluted their anger to a degree.