23: Chapter 23 The Moment of Choice

When the Great Rift tore across the galaxy, Vulcan-IV became an isolated fortress in a galaxy that had already become extremely dark.

The Warp was locked down by storms, and any ship attempting to leave risked being devoured by Chaos. There were no merchant ships, no reinforcements, and contact with the Imperium had been severed.

Even short-range travel within the system had been lost during an Orks invasion three months ago—communication between the orbital defense platforms had long since been cut off.

The entire perception of the world outside Vulcan-IV was approximately zero.

Now, Icarus had sent a warning.

Red border.

Emergency priority.

The shrill sound of the alarm filled Helmut's workshop, and the Servo-skulls of past Archmagos in the niches furrowed their brows.

Twelve Servo-skulls floated in a perfect binary star formation, and the holographic projection connected:

[Remote Sensor Alert]

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Detected abnormal space jump signal

Coordinates: Outer orbital zone, 120,000 kilometers away

Signal characteristics: Orks fleet (confirmed)

Scale: 200+ ships (including flagship)

Estimated time of arrival: 36-60 hours

Threat level: Re-evaluating...

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It was a warning from Icarus, along with a solution.

[Historical Battle Comparative Analysis]

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Search keywords: Orks, large-scale invasion, Forge World

Matched record: Battle of Calumus (M41.789)

Battle summary:

- Orks strength: approx. 12 million

- Imperial defenders: 24 million (including PDF, Skitarii, Space Marine)

- Duration: 14 months

- Result: Imperial pyrrhic victory, 60% of Forge World facilities destroyed

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Current detection data comparison:

- Orks strength: 3-5 million

- Number of ships: 200+ ships

- Estimated time of arrival: 36-60 hours

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Current situation:

- Available forces: 100,000 Skitarii

- Defense facilities: Icarus base 375 defense towers + 4 planetary shields (charging)

- Advantages: Urbanization tactics, material recycling

Conclusion: This is not a reconnaissance unit. It is an extinction-level invasion.

Threat level: Apocalypse class

Note: Just happen to be short on resources.

Helmut stared at the numbers.

Now he needed to make a choice: whether to adhere to the traditions of the Imperium or to follow Icarus's material recycling.

In the eyes of the Imperium, consuming alien corpses—especially consciously incorporating alien corpses into the production cycle—is a dual crime of extreme severity: it is both a capital offense under the law and a religious blasphemy.

Legally: Any act of utilizing alien biological material is viewed as a contamination and destruction of human purity. The law strictly prohibits any form of intermingling between humans and aliens; this belongs to the highest level of taboo.

Religiously: Humanity is the creation of the God-Emperor and is supreme. Consuming aliens, especially incorporating them into the production cycle, is equivalent to accepting alien contamination on both a physical and spiritual level, and is a direct betrayal of the God-Emperor (Omnissiah).

The logic of the Imperium has always been this direct: if you use alien corpses, it means you have had contact with aliens; if you have had contact with aliens, you may have already been corrupted; if you may have been corrupted, then you need to be "purified."

The Inquisition of the Imperium (especially the Ordo Xenos) would view this as a threat of the highest level; once discovered, they would usually employ Exterminatus-level cleansing measures, not only executing the parties involved but potentially destroying the entire population of the planet to prevent the spread of contamination.

Imperial rules are often more ruthless than the enemy (Chaos).

Helmut was not Gluck.

He was not a veteran Skitarii; he was an Archmagos, the supreme leader of the Forge World.

His decision was not about whether he believed it himself, but about whether 87 million people could live.

The point is: even if they survived the Orks green tide, they might still be subjected to an Exterminatus by the Imperium. Should the traditions of the Adeptus Mechanicus be upheld? Should the doctrines of the Omnissiah be violated?

He walked to the window of the control room and looked outside.

From this window, one could see the panoramic view of the base—or perhaps it should be called a city?

An Industrial City taking shape. The blue light of the factories formed an ocean, the conveyor belt network ran through the land like blue blood vessels, and the lights of the temporary residential areas looked like stars fallen to earth.

In the distance, the pulsed light of the Negentropy Furnace flickered rhythmically, like the heart of this newborn city.

And at the edge of the city, Construction Drones were setting up defense towers.

Gauss Machine Gun Towers, High-frequency Laser Towers, Missile Defense Towers, Implosion Cannon Towers... a total of 375, deployed in a ring.

He watched for a moment, then said, "Gluck."

"Present."

"If I proceed according to tradition," Helmut said without turning back, "would you execute it?"

Silence.

A long silence.

Then Gluck said, "I would. Because you are the Archmagos."

Helmut turned around.

Gluck stood straight, his Skitarii power armor reflecting the cold light of the control room. His expression was calm, but there was something different in his eyes.

"Why?" Helmut asked.

"Because I have seen those children," Gluck said, "the children queuing at the supply station for Protein Bars. When they get the chocolate-flavored ones, their eyes light up. If you tell me that starting tomorrow, we will no longer give them food and let them 'die with dignity'... then I would rather die first. At least I wouldn't have to watch."

The control room fell into silence.

There was only the hum of machines running, the ticking of data streams refreshing, and the low roar from the factories in the distance.

Helmut walked back to the console and looked at the two protocols. Two paper documents, parchment, wax-sealed, traditional format, with the Omnissiah as the witness.

He recalled the words of his teacher, Cawl.

Many years ago, on Mars, Cawl said to him: "Helmut, remember—those who betray tradition are destined to be betrayed by tradition. But sometimes, tradition itself is a betrayal.

A betrayal of life, a betrayal of reason, a betrayal of the future."

He didn't understand at the time.

Now he understood.

Tradition is about letting the elite live and the commoners die. Tradition makes "dying with dignity" an embellishment for incompetent rule.

Helmut reached out and picked up the pen.

He looked at the signature line of the "Cycle Processing Protocol."

He paused for three seconds.

The first second, he thought: If I sign this, I am a traitor to the Adeptus Mechanicus. Mars will brand me a heretic, the Inquisition will burn me, and my name will become a disgrace. But 87 million people might live.

The second second, he thought: If I sign the traditional protocol, I will be a qualified Archmagos. I will preserve the elite, let the commoners "die with dignity," and self-destruct at the last moment. Then my name will be carved on a monument as a "hero who held the line until the last moment." But 87 million people will die.

The third second, he thought: In fact, there is no choice.

From the moment Icarus appeared, from the moment it began producing food, soothing machine spirits, and building factories, tradition was already dead. It was not killed by him; it was killed by reality.

The reality is that 87 million people need to eat, and the reality is that 3 million Orks want to kill.

The reality is that the traditional plan cannot win: the Titan forces had long since departed with Guilliman's Indomitus Crusade, the Astartes were nowhere to be found, the Planetary Defense Force had long since been wiped out, and the Navy was not even worth considering.

The reality is mathematics.

87.3% vs 0.01%.

As for whether the Imperium will come after the war—that is a matter for later. At least for now, he must let these people survive tomorrow.

The pen fell.

The moment the blue-light tip touched the signature line, the lights in the entire control room seemed to flicker.

Gluck let out a long breath, his voice exceptionally clear in the silent control room.

"Done," he said, "there is no turning back now."

Helmut put down the pen and answered calmly, "Now, we have placed our bet on that 87.3% win rate."

On the console screen, real-time monitoring data began to refresh at an accelerated rate. Construction progress, defense deployment, population migration, fleet distance... all the numbers were jumping, and all indicators were moving toward "Ready."

And in the corner of the screen, a countdown window was marked out:

Estimated time of Orks arrival: 26 hours 18 minutes 47 seconds