Warhammer 40k: Starting as a Rogue Trader

Chapter 177: Escape from the Prison

Burns knew the status of these SCVs within the Dynasty. The tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus treated them as if they were sacred relics. However, he didn't know the specifics of what an SCV could do; he only knew that their ability to repair things was frighteningly high. As someone who had formerly served in the Raiders, he had personally seen one repair a damaged siege tank to pristine condition in a short amount of time.

As long as it was a machine, there was nothing these SCVs couldn't fix. They could even repair some xenos technology.

Burns's hands gripped the bars of the cell tightly. He truly wished this SCV could be reactivated. But at this moment, the SCV was tilted against the wall as if it had been completely destroyed. The slavers had also thought this human creation was broken, tossing it aside like a piece of scrap metal.

"By the Holy Machine, may the machine spirit reawaken, may you be restored to operation, and save us, the loyal servants of the God-Emperor."

These Dark Eldar obviously wouldn't leave anything useful in the cells; they wouldn't give their slaves any chance to escape. With no other options, Burns began to pray to the SCV, just as the tech-priests of the Cult of the Holy Machine would. He was treating a dead horse as if it were still alive. In his heart, he didn't believe that a non-member of the Mechanicus could awaken a machine spirit. Under normal circumstances, even the assisting tech-adepts had to light holy incense, chant hymns, and perform a strict set of rituals.

Of course, the SCV didn't need to be pleased. Lucan had only created that whole process to give the tech-priests of the Cult of the Holy Machine a sense of the sacred.

"Heh... do you really think you're Tech-priests? Besides, that piece of junk is obviously broken. What a laughable attempt."

Gaspar was still mocking from the side. In his eyes, Burns's actions were incredibly foolish.

But suddenly, he couldn't laugh anymore. He couldn't help but crawl up and press himself against the cell door, gripping the bars so tightly that the spikes on them pierced his palms without him reacting.

The inactive SCV had actually started to move.

"That's not right... this thing clearly has a cockpit, but there's no one inside! Who is controlling it?!"

The soldiers from the Dynasty, seeing the SCV actually move, all began to cheer in low voices.

"Quiet! Don't attract those Dark Eldar!"

The SCV walked toward the cell door. But just as the SCV was about to break down the door, Gaspar stopped it.

"Make it stop! Now is definitely not the time to act. The noise will attract the slavers!!"

It turned out that when the hope of escape appeared, Gaspar, who had originally resigned himself to his fate, suddenly found his motivation. If one could live... who would want to die? Especially since death here only came in an incredibly painful form. Originally sentenced to death in the Imperium, he had joined the Penal Legion to gamble for a chance at life. A powerful will to survive had allowed him to live through several brutal battles. This proved his desire to live was very strong!

As Burns gave the order, the SCV stopped operating again. Using the vision granted by the system, Lucan had been observing Burns and the others, and controlling the SCV's actions.

"Gaspar, what do you mean?"

"You have to wait for the right moment, Burns! Be patient!"

"Then when do we wait until?!" Burns was already impatient to leave this place.

"Wait for the gladiatorial games in the arena to begin! At that time, the defenses here will be at their weakest. We were once escorted from here to the arena. At that time, the elite Dark Eldar soldiers will also go to the arena to watch the fights. They won't miss the chance to watch a good fight!"

Gaspar had already survived four times in the arena. At first, he also refused to accept his fate and constantly looked for a chance to escape, so every time he left the cell, he observed the habits of these xenos. As their owner, the slaver here wouldn't want to miss the fights of his high-quality slaves. The more they won, the more wealth they brought him. The owner of a gladiator-slave could also get a relatively front-row seat in the arena. And the closer to the front, the more soul-energy generated from the pain could be absorbed.

A Dark Eldar who did not absorb souls to fill the void in their own would constantly wither away. A front-row seat at an arena was enough to rejuvenate a Dark Eldar.

"But if that's the case, won't those of us who are taken to the arena still be dead?"

"The slaver won't send all of his slaves to the fighting pits at once."

"But even so, aren't the ones who are chosen doomed? Even if they survive the arena, when they come back here and find we've escaped, they will definitely not be allowed to live."

But Burns's words did not cause any ripple in the heart of Gaspar, the man from the Penal Legion.

"So what? It's just a few sacrifices. Not just here, even back in the Imperium, we in the Penal Legion were just using our lives to pave the way for an attack."

Gaspar's words also stunned Burns for a moment. That's right. Not to mention the Penal Legion, wasn't the old Mongorte Dynasty the same? The lives of soldiers were not worth much on the old Agathos. All of this had only changed after Lucan became a Rogue Trader. In just a short ten years, Burns had almost forgotten that kind of miserable life.

"Stop thinking about it. I really don't know how you Rogue Trader soldiers do it. We have no way to interfere with the slaver's choice. Whoever is chosen to go to the arena, that's just his bad luck. That's fate!"

With that, Gaspar lay back down on the ground.

Not long after, the slaver, just as Gaspar had said, came to the cell. His eyes scanned the slaves inside as if he were choosing his merchandise. Soon, twenty humans were selected. As the cell door opened, splinter weapons were aimed at everyone. Anyone who made a move would be mercilessly shot.

Perhaps because their injuries had not yet healed, only a few of the Mongorte Dynasty's soldiers were chosen to test the waters. Most were the human slaves from the Penal Legion. The chosen all had faces full of despair, but not a single one of them revealed the escape plan in exchange for a chance to live.

Burns looked at the three of his comrades who had been chosen, his face filled with heartache. And they looked at Burns with determination.

"You have to escape, sir!"

But unexpectedly, their words drew a sneer from the slaver. This Dark Elf even knew Low Gothic.

"Escape? Hahaha, I really hope you can. But with just you inferior monkeys? Are you going to chew through these bars with your teeth? Fight with all your might to win more fights for me, and you might live a little longer. Now, hurry up! The games are about to begin!"

As the cell door closed again, the slaver and his guards left the prison.

Calculating the time in his head, Gaspar deduced that the slaver had completely left, and then he immediately got up.

"Control that mechanical creation and break open the cell! Hurry! We have to be quick!"

Temporarily pushing the pain of losing his comrades to the back of his mind, Burns also began to pray to the SCV again. And Lucan, possessing the corresponding divine authority, once again sensed it all.

The SCV started up again. Its drill and industrial clamp grabbed the cell door. With the power provided by its engine, a gap large enough for one person to pass through was torn open.

"By the Holy Machine, it really worked! Everyone, follow me!"

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