The Emperor’s Angel of Death

All along, Ottavia and Dietrian didn't get along well.

This trip was an accident for both of them. She felt that she had lost patience with such a creature, and he felt that the smell of biochemical substances and organic liquids involved in the reproduction of mammals was unpleasant.

The end result is that neither of them is happy.

Their relationship went downhill from the first impression.

When Ottavia returned to his residence to make the final preparations before the flight, the mechanical bishop was obviously relieved.

After everything was cleaned up, she tied Bai Ji to the uncomfortable seat on the belly of Dietrian’s chunky insect boat. This was also her "bedroom"—just like a real room, with only one On the screen, there is hardly enough space to stretch her legs.

"Has anyone ever been sitting here and testing this kind of equipment?"

Ottavia asked with anxiety, but no one answered her.

A machine servant walked over silently and inserted a long slender nerve spike into her temple, which was made dignified and elegant.

"Ouch, be careful."

"Yes."

The cyborg murmured, staring dead. This was all the answers she got, and she was not surprised by it.

"You have to push it until it clicks,"

She told a slave who had a lobectomy.

"Unless it comes out of my other **** ear."

"Fated."

"Throne, get out."

It said "yes" for the third time, and it did.

Afterwards, she heard it hit something in the corridor outside, and the spacecraft was shaking when the weapon was finally loaded.

Ottavia’s room does not have portholes, but the situation can be observed through external image input.

The images of the main deck of the Cursed Echo flashed on the screen one by one, the Thunder Eagle loaded all the payloads, and the pod was hoisted to the designated position.

Ottavia looked with emotionless eyes, not knowing what she was expecting.

Is this home?

Will she miss all this?

If she managed to escape, where would she go?

"Oh--"

Suddenly, she looked at the screen and exclaimed in excitement and joy in a low voice.

"unbelievable."

She paused the scrolling picture and entered a code to tilt an image detector on the hull.

The loader car and the crew ferry back and forth, and a figure appeared.

Septims, with a worn leather bag slung over his shoulder, was talking to Dieterian by the main fence. His long hair covered his facial scars, and he wore a delicate piece in his thick jacket. Body armor.

A machete was stuck in his right calf, and two pistols were hanging down on his hip.

She didn't know what he was talking about, there was no sound from the external viewfinder, but she looked at him and patted Dietrian on the shoulder.

The sticky chrome corpse didn't seem to appreciate this move.

Afterwards, Septims climbed up the ladder and disappeared from Ottavia's sight. She could only see from the screen that Dietrian returned to command his loader servant to take the steady stream of machines onto the ship.

As soon as she turned her head, she heard a knock on the door.

"Tell me, you have put on your bandanna."

She heard him calling through the metal door.

Ottavia smiled and reached out to check, just in case.

"You are safe."

The door opened, Septimus threw away his equipment as soon as he closed the door, and then gave Ottavia a deep kiss.

"I was fired, just like you."

Ottavia stroked each other's face with a smile, and smiled:

"Then who will drive the Diablo (the Thunderhawk of the First Claw) to the ground now?"

"Nobody, the Diablo has been loaded on this ship, and Talos bequeathed it to Valler. It is filled with pharmacist equipment and relics from the Hall of Reflection. It will be returned to the legion in the eye. If we can go that far."

Ottavia's smile disappeared, like the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

"We won't go that far, you know that, don't you?"

Septims shrugged, obviously optimistic.

"Talos said, if I can take you, and him."

As he said, his right hand gently stroked Ottavia's swollen belly.

"Go to a place where there is not so much blood."

Ottavia was stunned.

After a long time, she sighed quietly:

"That fool..."

Although it was deliberately restricted, something quickly spread throughout the warship. The Echo of the Curse was a city in space. Such a range meant that there were all kinds of people inside. in

On the highest crew deck, where the least problem is, officers and ordinary crew members know what role they should play, and they will perform their duties in a professional manner like the crew members of the Imperial Navy.

But on the lower deck, if the news spreads, it will cause very serious consequences.

Talos avoids this situation as much as possible.

Thousands of people have fed the ship with their blood and sweat. They worked **** the reactor cabin and weapon battery platform, but they did not have a broader understanding of the situation, except for the fact that: The battle is about to begin.

Talos came to the main deck alone. The surviving soldiers of the Tenth Company had boarded their pods, and their Thunder Eagles were also loaded with combat equipment, ready to be transported to the ground.

The attendants stood silently waiting for the next order.

The Prophet passed through the quiet landing site to where Dietrian was walking down the gangway of his ship.

"Everything is ready."

Dietrian was not surprised by the appearance of Talos.

Talos nodded and stared at the bishop wearing the eyepieces.

"Dietrian, swear to me, you will do what I say. Those three coffins are priceless. Macarion will stand with us, but the other three coffins must reach the legion. They can’t Die here with us."

"Everything is ready."

Dieterian repeated his previous words.

"Gene seeds are also very important. The stored genetic seeds must reach the eyes. At all costs, swear to me."

"Everything is ready."

Dietrian rarely cares about other people's oaths. In his view, the so-called oath is to replace the calculated possibility with hope. In short, it is a flawed parameter.

"Swear to me, Dieterian."

Under Talos' gaze, the technical bishop uttered a low stabbing sound.

"If this makes you happy, in order to end this vocal exchange, I swear I will strictly follow the plan and do my best to supervise the efforts of others."

"Thank you."

But suddenly Dietrian didn't plan to end the conversation anytime soon.

"Talos, it is estimated that after you leave, we will stay in the orbit of the planet for a few hours before we can determine whether there is an alien spacecraft chasing us. The unreliability of ornithology is a factor, and drift interference is a factor. Being able to interfere is another factor, logically—"

"Yes, I know, there are many factors."

Talos interrupted the opponent immediately.

"Now it's up to you. You can hide for as long as you want. Run if you can."

Dietrian turned around and hesitated.

"Soul hunter, I was thinking, should I wish you good luck?"

Dietrian squinted at Talos' skull mask.

"You have to understand that I feel disgusted when I think of fate. It doesn't fit any statistical logic, Talos."

The prophet did not speak, but stretched out his hand.

Dietrian's lens freezes on Talos' goggles at that moment, and his facial structure gently rotates, revealing the fact that his eyes are refocusing.

"It's interesting~www.ltnovel.com~Processing."

After a while, he grabbed Talos' palm.

Talos shook the bishop's hand and replied to the traditional soldier salute of the Eighth Army.

"Farewell, respected bishop."

Dietrian searched for an appropriate response. He was an outsider, but the old official language was traditionally spoken by the soldiers of the Eighth Army on the eve of the mortal battle.

"Under the shroud of midnight, may you be alive even though you are dead, son of the Eighth Legion."

After speaking, Dietrian immediately turned around and went up the escalator to his spaceship.

Before Talos left, he saw Settimus standing on the top of the slope, and the slave was raising his gloved hand to bid him farewell.

The prophet sneered at this gesture, and mortals were always forced by emotion to do something meaningless.

After staring for a few seconds, he nodded, greeted his former slave, and left the hangar without saying a word.