MM Racing Chapter 34 Gathering
Chapter 34 Gathering
The Black Pearl glided into berth B of the roaming port. This patrol was completed as planned, and the escort mission in the border area went smoothly.
Liu En was discussing technical improvements to the Black Pearl with Marcus on the bridge. Marcus marked several sections on the holographic projection table and offered some suggestions from a practical combat perspective. As they were talking, Valentius arrived with a briefing that afternoon. He entered the meeting room, his face more somber than usual, placed the data panel on the table, and did not sit down.
"The Druid Frontier Sector has been ravaged. The worst affected is a hive world called 'Devotion'."
Liu En picked up the data panel. It was a dry summary from the Imperial Navy's intelligence department. The Dark Eldar fleet had cut into the outer perimeter of the Devout Nest City through a temporary network exit, breaching the Void Shield's blind spots, and their raid lasted approximately six hours. By the time the navy arrived, they had already retreated.
Statistics: 32 million civilians dead, 1.1 million abducted. The lower levels of the three hive cities were emptied. The devout governor has disappeared, most likely captured.
"What did the higher-ups say?"
Valentius paused for two seconds. "The Sage said that strategic sacrifices are unavoidable. The sacrifice of the Pious World bought Wandering Harbor valuable preparation time and effectively diverted the alien fleet's attention. This is a necessary price to pay."
"The necessary price." Liu En repeated.
"The god of all machines has his own calculations," Valentius said without wavering. "Every sacrifice adds to the turning of the gears of the vast machine that is the Empire."
"They didn't come to Wandering Harbor. Devout took the hit for us. The Dark Eldar have vented their anger and taken enough slaves; they won't be making any major moves anytime soon."
Liu En stared at him. Valentius didn't flinch. Both of them knew what this meant—the deaths of thirty million people were, in the eyes of the Wandering Port's higher-ups, merely meat to be thrown away. Once the dog has eaten the meat, it won't bother rummaging through the trash can.
"What about the mission?"
"It's over. The three-ship rotation cycle has ended. You can return to Lucis now, and arrange your own schedule." Valentius paused for a moment. "The Sage Helios is very satisfied with the Black Pearl's performance. Gamma-9's contribution is recorded in the Lucis archives."
After Valentius left, Liu En sat in the reception room for a while. The frankincense in the incense burner had burned out, leaving only ashes. He rose and walked to the imperial shrine, gazing at the alabaster-gold imperial statue. Thirty million people had died. The Empire didn't care. Wandering Harbor didn't care. Just numbers.
That evening, Liu En said to Marcus and Phyllis, "Before we leave, let's have a get-together with the Iron Wall and the Truth Seeker."
Marcus paused for a moment. He'd served in the Navy for twenty-three years, and it had always been a matter of signing a document, shaking hands, and going their separate ways. In his dictionary, the word "dinner party" belonged to the aristocracy.
"A get-together?" Marcus confirmed.
"It's just about having a meal, having some drinks, and chatting. The three of us have been working together for so long, it's time for a get-together before we part ways."
Phyllis reacted faster. "Does the captain mean a three-ship dinner?"
Liu En nodded.
The message was sent. Vera replied first, her voice brimming with excitement: "A dinner party? When? On the Black Pearl? Can I bring my first mate? We have a cook on board who makes desserts; I'll bring the ingredients."
Eisenhorn replied late, with a single line: "Okay. Please let me know the time and place."
Three days later, in the evening.
The crew of the Ironwall and the Truth Seeker boarded their ships one after another. The Ironwall brought twelve people, led by Eisenhorn, officers and senior petty officers, their uniforms impeccably pressed, their steps measured. The Truth Seeker brought more than twenty people, led by Vera, who had changed into a clean robe, her hair in a high ponytail, a smile on her face. Behind her were people carrying large and small bags: groceries, bottles of wine, and a portable cooler.
Vera entered the reception room and glanced around. "Captain Cohen, your ship is really spacious. The Ironwall is half the size."
Eisenhorn didn't say anything.
Liu En shook hands with each person. Eisenhorn's hand was dry and strong; he shook it briefly and then let go. "The ship is nice," Vera said, her hand holding his for three seconds; it was cool and soft. "I was in a rush last time and didn't get a proper look around, so I'm making up for it today."
The main dining hall was next to the reception room. The tables and chairs had been rearranged into a long table, covered with a deep red tablecloth. Metal candlesticks sat on the table, and the servants had lit candles. The lights had been dimmed.
Dr. Liz made a dessert—golden butter shortbread, sprinkled with chopped nuts, and arranged on a tray. Marcus tasted one and said, "It's good." Liz's lips curled into a smile.
Vera's cook, a tall, thin man, opened the refrigerator and took out a three-tiered cream cake. The surface was covered with creamy white frosting, and the top was decorated with a gear and skull emblem drawn with jam.
"I made him do it," Vera said, "to celebrate the successful completion of the Wandering Harbor mission."
Eisenhorn looked at the cake without saying a word. He didn't refuse. The servant cut the cake and distributed it to everyone's plates. He took a bite and nodded.
The cafeteria gradually became lively.
The crew of the Ironwall were initially reserved, sitting quietly at one end of the long table, eating and occasionally conversing in hushed tones. The crew of the Truth Seeker were completely different, walking around with their plates, chatting with the veterans of the Black Pearl, some gesturing and recounting embarrassing stories from their voyages.
A technician from the Truth Seeker sat down next to a veteran from the Black Pearl, a glass of wine in hand. "The food on your ship is much better than ours. We only get meat once a week."
The veteran forked a Grox steak. "We have it every day."
"day by day?"
"Unlimited".
The technician turned to look at his colleague, his eyes filled with undisguised envy.
Marcus walked over to Eisenhorn with his wine glass in hand. The two stood in a corner and chatted.
"How's it going after a few months on this route?" Marcus asked.
Eisenhorn paused. "The old boatman is alright."
How many years has the Ironwall been in service?
"One hundred and thirty-seven years. Older than my grandfather."
Marcus nodded. "The Black Pearl isn't that old, but it's well-maintained."
Eisenhorn glanced at him. "Your equipment, and the condition of this ship, don't look like a typical refurbishment. I've seen plenty of Gothic-class ships in the Navy, and none of them are like this."
Marcus took a sip of his drink but didn't reply.
Phyllis and the logistics director of the Truth Seeker exchanged information on supply routes. They hit it off and arranged to meet again on their way back to Lucius. The Truth Seeker's logistics director lowered his voice: "Your equipment supply channels... are they from the Lucius Temple?"
Phyllis smiled. "The captain has connections. Everything we can get is legal, so use it with confidence."
"I'm not worried about legality. I'm envious." The woman sighed. "Our process takes three months, and all the approved items are just ordinary goods."
"I'll talk to the captain when I get back and see if we can spare some for you."
"Then it will be hard work."
Liu En sat in the middle of the long table, with Vera beside her. She had drunk two glasses of fruit wine, and her cheeks were slightly flushed.
"Captain Cohen, you're definitely different." Vera swirled her wine glass. "I've met quite a few technical priests, either they're holed up in their workshops and never come out, or they just spout binary numbers. You're different."
Liu En held up his coffee cup. "What's different?"
"You know how to organize parties. I've never seen a technical priest do that before." She gestured around.
In the mess hall, veterans from the Ironwall and soldiers from the Black Pearl's garrison were arm-wrestling, drawing a crowd. The veteran lost, stood up, and dusted off his trousers. "You Black Pearl's food is good, and you're all strong," a soldier from the garrison grinned. On the Truth Seeker, a sailor was playing a portable stringed instrument in a corner, his playing terribly off-key, but no one seemed to mind.
"It's like a proper place to eat," Vera said.
Liu En didn't reply. Vera leaned closer and lowered her voice: "About Gamma-9, we heard that the Black Pearl charged in alone, and the whole ship exploded. I thought that third-level novice priest was either crazy or really capable. In the end, you won."
"luck."
"Don't be modest. I've checked your resume. Registered with Lucis, promoted in three years, field agent, with a Gothic-class officer under your command. Everyone in Lucis is talking about you."
Liu En drank coffee. "What are you discussing?"
"They're talking about who you really are," Vera laughed. "But I don't care." She raised her glass and clinked it against his. "To the Black Pearl."
"Homage to the Black Pearl".
At the next table, the Master Chief of the Ironwall and Carlos of the Black Pearl started chatting. Both were from Valhalla, talking about their home snowfields and the frozen factory. The Master Chief hadn't been back for fifteen years, and Carlos for twenty-two. They were silent for a few seconds, then clinked their glasses.
"Are you planning to go back?" the sergeant asked.
"What's the point of going back? People back home are either dead or have been moved." Carlos took a sip of his drink. "Home is where the ship is."
The sergeant nodded and said nothing more.
The night grew deeper. Eisenhorn approached and shook hands with Liu En. "The Ironwall departs tomorrow morning. Until we meet again."
Until we meet again.
Eisenhorn turned around, then paused. "Thank you for the drink."
"Of course."
Eisenhorn hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice: "I've seen the combat logs of your ship, Gamma-9. The accuracy of the light lances and the density of the point defenses don't seem like something a typical Gothic-class ship could achieve. I don't know how you did it, but—don't let too many people know."
Liu En looked at him and remained silent for a moment. "The Black Pearl underwent a major overhaul by an elder. From the keel to the armor, from the light lance resonator to the point defense fire control network, everything was redesigned. The cost and technical difficulty of this project were no less than building a flagship-class battleship."
Eisenhorn's optical lens shifted slightly, but he remained silent.
"The Retribution-class battleship, you know it, right?" Liu En picked up his coffee cup, his tone calm. "One of the three major battleships in the Imperial Navy's arsenal. It's not that we can't build better ones, it's that the cost doesn't allow it. The cost of one Retribution-class battleship is enough to arm an entire Astral Army legion. Building one in the Forge World would require concentrating the resources of half a star sector. It's not that we lack the technology, it's that after doing the math, we realized it wasn't worthwhile. The Forge World calculates the return on investment, not whether it's even possible."
Eisenhorn was silent for a few seconds. "So your 'elder' doesn't consider the costs?"
"He only calculates whether he can survive." Liu En took a sip of coffee.
Eisenhorn stared at him for two seconds, then nodded. "Understood. I consider you a friend now." He turned and led his men away. The group remained orderly, their steps synchronized, but the pace was slower than when they arrived.
Vera didn't leave. She sent most of the crew back to the ship, leaving only an old butler with her. The old butler, dressed in dark gray casual clothes, with gray hair and a mechanical right eye, stood at the entrance of the reception room, his back ramrod straight, like a statue—neither seeing, hearing, nor speaking.
Liu En stood by the porthole. Vera walked over and leaned against the porthole as well, holding a half-empty glass of fruit wine in her hand.
"Captain Cohen," she swirled her glass, a smile still playing on her lips from their earlier conversation, but paused, "I have something to tell you, but don't find it annoying."
Liu En turned his head to look at her. "Speak."
"My family has an old house in the Pinnacle District, with a hideous black iron statue standing in front of it," Vera said lightly, as if she were chatting about something trivial. "My father wants to see you."
Before Liu En could respond, she laughed first. "Don't be nervous, it's not like 'meeting the parents.' He's just a fifth-tier civil servant sage, spending all his time in the temple approving documents. What can he possibly do to you?"
Liu En didn't say anything.
Vera placed the glass on the windowsill, twirling her finger along the rim. Her expression remained unchanged, still as carefree as ever, but her speech slowed slightly. "My father... well, how should I put it. He holds a sinecure as a liaison officer in Lucis, supposedly a fifth-order sage, but he's really just a messenger. Terra needs to contact Lucis, he relays the message; Lucis needs to report something to his superiors, he relays that too. He's stuck in the middle."
She shrugged. "He's counting on me for the rest of his life. Last year he arranged a marriage for me with a grand-nephew of a forging lord from Agrippina's side. He's forty years older than me, ninety percent of his body has been replaced with mechanical parts, and he speaks using a voice generator." She curled her lip. "Imperial noble marriages, the same old tricks."
"I told him about your Gamma-9. I told him about your ship." Vera's eyes lit up, an undisguised, genuine gleam. "After reading your file, he was silent for a long time, then said—'Let him come over to our house.'"
Liu En turned around to face her. "Your father wants to see me, not for tea."
"It's about having tea. It's also about having you check if the ship his daughter is on is reliable." Vera laughed, a laugh devoid of calculation, only the confident honesty of youth. "I don't care what he thinks. What I want is—to fight alongside you, to build experience, to have more respectable mission records in Lucis's archives. Not to have my file filled with 'Supply Ship - Logistics Transfer - No Combat Contact' every time it's opened."
She looked at Liu En, the light in her eyes still shining. "You can offer this. That's why I want to work with you."
Liu En paused for a moment. "After returning to Lucis, I'll go sit for a while."
Vera paused for a moment, then smiled. It was a clean smile, just like her.
"Then it's settled." She took a data crystal from the inner pocket of her robe, placed it on the windowsill, and pushed it over. "My contact code. The Pinnacle District, that hideous black iron statue at the entrance, easy to find."
Liu En put it into his pocket.
Vera stood up and patted off non-existent wrinkles on her robe. The old butler silently followed her from the doorway.
She walked to the door, turned back, and winked at Liu En. "Don't worry, my father won't bite."
Then she left.
Liu En stood alone on the bridge. Outside the porthole, the lights of the harbor twinkled. The berths of the Ironwall and the Truth Seeker dimmed. A few veterans were still cleaning up the mess hall in the corridor, the faint sound of clattering trays drifting through the air.
Marcus walked over, holding a half-finished glass of wine. "Captain, the dinner party is over. The Ironwall leaves tomorrow, the Truth Seeker leaves the day after, and we leave the day after that. Phyllis is processing our departure formalities."
Liu En nodded.
Marcus paused for a few seconds. "I've served in the military for twenty-three years and have never participated in anything like this before."
"How are you feeling?"
"Not bad."
He finished the last sip of his drink, placed the glass on the counter, and left.
Liu En stood alone on the bridge. Only one anchor point lit up in the higher dimension—Cohen was here. Hundreds of millions died in war every day in the Empire; the thirty million devout believers were merely numbers.