manynovel Chapter 46: Can Reconciliation Be Reached?
Chapter 46: Can Reconciliation Be Reached?
"Whom are you waiting for, my lord?" Holmes asked.
After completely defeating the Iron Seventh Unit, most of the soldiers began to withdraw from the surface and return to the ship in an orderly manner.
On the ground, only the mortal auxiliary army maintaining order and the Second Company responsible for clearing out and eliminating the Kraf aliens in the nest city remained.
Extricating himself from the overwhelming amount of information he had gathered, Hector stopped tapping his fingers on the table: "Is it that obvious, my son?"
His face was beaming with smiles and anticipation; he was clearly in a great mood.
Holmes moved closer and immediately saw the half-covered document on the table, a follow-up review and battle report from a day earlier concerning Paris's bravery, skill, and keen insight.
The most impartial legionary soldiers, who were responsible for examining and evaluating the new recruits, did not show any favoritism because Paris was Hector's brother.
Besides recording Paris's excellence, the text also mentions his many shortcomings, but overall, his merits outweigh his flaws.
Meanwhile, the names of Salpedon and Onosque are also on it.
"This must make you extremely proud, my lord." Holmes's gaze involuntarily turned to Hector.
On the exceptionally handsome face of the father of genetics was an undisguised smile of pride, and Holmes was genuinely happy to see this.
"Yes," Hector confessed, "I am indeed proud of him. He is my brother, and I am glad that he has accomplished such a feat."
"My lord, they should be returning to their ships by now." Holmes estimated the time and had a rough idea in mind.
"Yes, Holmes, that's what I admire about you. Your organizational skills and your thoughtfulness are indispensable to the Legion." Hector's smile widened.
He had calculated the time well in advance, and a portion of the Primarch's computing power was wasted on this, but he was willing to do so.
"It makes me very happy to have a son like you in the Legion."
With that, Hector lost all interest in his desk. He stood up and invited Holmes, who was already so excited that his brain was overloaded, "Come on, my son. Even the most hardworking person should allow himself a short vacation."
"Yes, Father."
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As they left the capital, the troops embarked on their journey home, carrying and supporting their seriously wounded comrades, and praying for a loyal brother who had fought to the last moment.
Salpedon and Sopa stood in front of Paris.
Paris, who was in a state of suspended animation, lay on a stretcher hastily assembled from two shields. Salpedon removed his helmet, bowed his head, and performed a Trojan salute.
"He's not dead yet. Give me a hand, kid. I only have one hand now, I can't lift him."
Even so, Sopa still struck Paris's breastplate with his remaining hand.
He then reached under the shield and gripped it tightly, locking the temporary grip that had been welded between the shield sections.
Salpedon silently grasped the other side, and the two descended to the ground, heading towards the four Stormbirds that had been waiting for them.
"Hurry, warriors." Lestrade was also in very poor condition, with a deep gash in his chest.
Clough's final, desperate counterattack still hurt him: "Don't waste time!"
The company commanders' voices were extremely stern and impatient. The situation was urgent, and they had no time to waste, whether it was for the brothers who had already died or the soldiers waiting to be rescued.
Once all the warriors had returned to the Stormbird, the Stormbird roared into action, kicking up clouds of dust, and rapidly spiraled upwards toward its orbit, swiftly piercing the night sky.
The Stormbird pilots pushed the engines to maximum power, not daring to stop or relax for a moment, as if they had started a life-or-death race in the sky.
They flew past friendly aircraft several times, startling the pilots who cursed them as lunatics.
"An extremely terrible... experience." Onos sat down next to Salpedon, his face filled with horrific hatred for the alien.
This almost contorted his face.
"He's dead?" Salpedon's words were blunt and hurtful.
Upon hearing this, Onosque nodded in pain and silence.
"He's dead."
"When his weapon was cut off and one of his lungs was pierced, he rushed forward and hugged the damned alien around the waist, only to be stabbed through the skull and killed by the alien."
"The accompanying Kaval apothecary has declared him dead, and the king's gift has been taken back."
Salpedon listened quietly, then looked up and stared blankly at the Stormbird's ceiling.
"Many people have died, Onosque, many."
"But they were loyal, they were brave, including him."
The person Salpedon was referring to was another member of their trio, a nobleman's son who cared more about the Trojan system and Trojan privileges.
The Stormbirds' welding was superb, but after looking at them for a while, Salpedon grew tired of them.
He stopped listening to Onos's painful curses and sorrow beside him and walked to the reinforced glass of the cockpit.
The pilot in the cabin did not remove him, and he recognized the other person.
"Salpedon," the other person said.
"Are you also a Trojan?" Salpedon asked in surprise.
The other person shook his head: "I became a soldier of the Second Legion in 810, an American from the sacred Earth, not a Trojan."
This puzzled Salpedon even more, and he couldn't help but ask, "Then how do you know me?"
"After today, many soldiers will know you, hahaha." The other person's laughter pierced through the dull helmet.
He maneuvered the Stormbird away from the dark surface of Iron Seven and into a sky orbit where no sights could be seen.
Along the way, they overtook many landing ships, and each time they passed one, the other ship would burst into hearty laughter.
The bumpy ride forced Salpedon to cling tightly to any structure or object that could be used for support: "If there were any wounded here, I believe the company commander would not hesitate to twist your head off."
"He won't, they know our style."
"Didn't you notice that none of the brothers from the First Company are riding my Stormbird?" The other party laughed without hesitation and gave a reason.
Salpedon didn't answer. He listened to the approaching footsteps behind him and watched the cheerful rhythm of the other person's light footsteps on the ground. He silently made way for them.
"But they don't know that." Salpedon smiled, a smile that hadn't been seen in a long time.
The soldier from the Fifth Company turned around in confusion. At the door stood several Trojan Dawn messengers, who were not wearing helmets so that the driver could see the anger on their faces.
Inside the driver's cab, the other support staff huddled together, leaving him out.
Cold sweat broke out on the driver's face.
"I sincerely apologize for this."
"Can we make peace, brothers? For the sake of the father of genetics."
"For the sake of me being the driver."
His last words made the soldiers hesitate.
Just when the other side thought they had escaped a disaster, the support staff spoke up in unison, their voices filled with schadenfreude and anticipation: "We can pilot the Stormbird."
"Damn it!"