LRAB Chapter 52 Sebanus
Chapter 52 Sebanus
The transport ship passed through a layer of grayish-yellow smoke and dust, the temperature readings on the heat-resistant tiles slowly dropping from their peak. Liu En leaned back in his seat, the power armor's servo systems entering low-power mode, the field shield status lights shifting from yellow back to green. The cooling system was still running, but the hum was several notches lower than underground. Outside, the surface of Dulob Sand rapidly shrank, the outline of the bombing crater blurring into a patchwork of grayish-yellow before being obscured by clouds. In the distance, the silhouette of the Black Pearl unfolded in the orbital lights.
The docking brackets engaged with the transport vessel's interface. The hatch opened, and the air in the corridor, carrying the dry smell unique to the circulating system, rushed in.
Marcus stood at the hangar entrance. "Welcome back, Captain."
"What's going on on the track?" Liu En took off his gloves.
"No. We're the only ones in this star system."
Marcus flipped through the data panel. "What's the next destination? Dulob Sand's mission is over. Should we head straight to the next target, or find a place to rest and resupply first?"
Liu En thought for a moment. The Black Pearl had been adrift in warp space for too long; the crew needed a breather. The veterans of the garrison also needed a place to wash the sand off their power armor and have a hot drink—not a synthetic meal replacement. "Find a nearby Imperial world. Stop for two days to resupply and rest." He took the data panel and flipped through the star map. "Saibanus IV. Industrial World, not far from here, stable route."
Marcus marked the coordinates and entered them into the navigation database. "Saibanus IV, Industrial World, Imperial Tier III Colony Maintenance Rank, approximately two days' journey from Dulob Sand. The orbital port has commercial berths and is well-stocked with supplies."
"Just stop there."
Marcus nodded and turned to go to the bridge. Liu En walked down the corridor; the veterans were taking turns on duty in the garrison's training area, but Kara wasn't there. Phyllis poked her head out of the logistics bay, glanced at Liu En, said nothing, and then shrank back inside.
The Black Pearl's engines ran smoothly during normal cruising.
Two days later, the Black Pearl leaped out of subspace. The planet of Saibanus IV burned as a dark orange orb outside the porthole, much dimmer than the planet of Garros, its light falling on the armor plating like a layer of worn-out rust. This planet was a full circle larger than Garros, with a thick atmosphere; even from orbit, the clouds were visible—grayish-white industrial exhaust mingled with natural clouds, like an indelible stain.
The spacecraft slowed down and entered the designated flight path.
The Saibanus spaceport is neither as imposing as Lucis nor as brand new as Garros. It is an old, bloated orbital structure, its metal shell covered in patches and rust, with half of the berth guide lights out and the other half flickering. The port control's voice carries a hint of weariness, but the process is relatively smooth.
The Black Pearl slid into its designated berth. As the docking supports extended, a grating metallic screeching sound filled the air, and the old sealing ring hissed and leaked for a few seconds before finally engaging. Liu En glanced at Marcus, who expressionlessly made a note on the data panel.
Stepping down the gangway, the smells of the spaceport hit them—industrial fumes, scorched circuit boards, and a musty, sweaty odor. The corridors were narrow, the ceilings low, and pipes and cables were exposed. Every few meters, an emergency light flickered, but half of them were out of service. There weren't many pedestrians; occasionally, a few technicians in gray overalls would push tool carts past. Their gazes towards Liu En and his group were indifferent, neither obsequious nor hostile.
Saibanus IV is a typical industrial world, a Tier 3 colony maintained by the Empire—meaning it's not particularly important, but not forgotten either. The largest hive on this planet is called "Forgehammer," situated on a volcanic plain near the equator, appearing from orbit as a gray scar. Tens of thousands of chimneys ceaselessly ventilate the atmosphere, leaving the surface almost entirely devoid of greenery. It doesn't produce anything particularly sophisticated; its main exports are basic metals, alloy ingots, and roughly machined parts, supplying the surrounding foundry worlds. The inhabitants of this planet are not fundamentally different from those struggling in the Armageddon hive—expending their lives day after day on assembly lines, only the air here is slightly drier.
The resupply arrangements were handled by Phyllis's logistics team in coordination with the port authority. The Black Pearl needed to replenish fresh water, fuel, and several spare reactor cooling pumps. The port authority was dragging their feet, and their quote was 30% higher than Lucis's. Phyllis didn't haggle and signed the order immediately. She didn't want to stay there any longer.
Liu En led Marcus and several veterans into the spaceport's transit hall. The hall wasn't large; the floor was polished terracotta steel, and the walls were adorned with imperial reliefs—roughly crafted, but possessing nonetheless the necessary sense of ceremony. In a corner was a kiosk selling locally brewed, low-quality liquor and synthetic foods at outrageously high prices. Several sailors in merchant ship uniforms huddled there, clutching crumpled local credits, waiting to buy liquor.
Marcus walked beside Liu En and said in a low voice, "Captain, we need to exchange some local currency. Throne coins aren't very useful here; the denominations are too large, and nobody can make change."
Liu En nodded. Phyllis had already taken care of it—she had exchanged a small bag of local Saibanus credits at the port authority's exchange window. The coins were of varying sizes, rough in texture, and bore the emblem of the Hammerhead City. She handed the bag to Liu En, who then casually passed it to Marcus.
There's not much to see at the Saibanus IV orbital port. The commercial area has only a few shops selling spare parts, tools, and cheap electronic devices.
The resupply loading took a day and a half. The crew disembarked in batches; some went to the tavern in the rail port for a couple of drinks, while others collapsed into their rest cabins in the berth area. Carlos, dragging his injured leg, strolled around the corridor, first going to the port authority's currency exchange window to exchange the small handful of Throne Coins Marcus had given him for local Saibanus credits. The coins were heavy, jingling in his pocket. He bought a pack of local tobacco from a stall in the commercial district—dark brown leaf fragments wrapped in yellowed paper. Back in the hangar, he slowly rolled one, took a couple of puffs, and stubbed it out.
"It's hard to smoke," he said, stuffing the rest of the cigarettes into his pocket.
The Black Pearl didn't linger there. Before departing, Marcus stood on the bridge looking at the navigation data and asked, "Straight to the next target?"
"Go straight there," Liu En said.
The thrusters ignited, and the ship slid out of its berth. Outside the porthole, the greyish-black surface of the Saibanus IV gradually shrank, the industrial exhaust fumes in the clouds gleaming with a sickly yellow hue under the starlight. Liu Enduo glanced at it, then turned away.
He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
After the Black Pearl departed from Saibanus IV, a short meeting was held in the reception room. A data panel lay open on the dark metal table. Marcus sat to one side, while Phyllis stood by the door flipping through a logistics list. Liu En sat in the main seat, his table empty.
"The mission to the Dead Silence Core is complete," Liu En said. "That thing was too dangerous, so I destroyed it down there. All the technical data has been archived; there's no need to bring the physical object back."
Marcus nodded slowly without saying a word.
Liu En picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. "The next target is the derelict spaceship. Saibanus rested for two days, and the manpower was replenished and they took a break."
Marcus nodded again. "Understood."
Phyllis turned to the next page of the logistics list. "Captain, the supply list has been prepared according to the standard route. Although the port authority at Saibanus is slow, the quality of the supplies is up to standard."
"Um."
Phyllis closed the data panel, and Marcus stood up, walked to the door, and paused. "The mess hall is ready. Captain, are you coming?"
"Come."
The mess hall lights were bright but stark white. Long tables were covered with dark red, non-slip tablecloths, and chairs were arranged in long strips. The veterans, now in civilian clothes, sat on either side of the tables. Lars sat in the corner, a coffee cup in his hand, his new left arm gripping the handle firmly. Carlos sat opposite him, his leg still bandaged, wearing a grey combat uniform, a crookedly rolled cigarette dangling from his lips, unlit. Marcus sat at one end of the table, a glass of water in front of him. Phyllis sat beside him, a cup of synthetic coffee in front of her. Kara sat among the veterans, a barely touched glass of liquor in front of her.
Liu En glanced at her but said nothing. A servant pushed a food cart out of the kitchen; the dishes were standard shipboard rations: Grox steak and starch cakes. Liu En pulled out several flat bottles from under the table—ordinary shipboard rations of liquor from the logistics warehouse, with an alcohol content so low even new recruits wouldn't be affected. The sound of the corkscrew prying open the bottles was crisp, and several veterans gathered around. The servant poured the liquor into metal glasses, and the cart rounded the corner of the long table, pushing the glasses in front of everyone.
Marcus picked up his cup, glanced at Liu En, and said nothing. Phyllis pushed her coffee cup aside, replaced it with a full glass of wine, and took a sip.
Liu En picked up his glass and stood up. "Dullob Sander's mission is over." The mess hall was silent for a few seconds as the veterans waited for him to continue. "Next, we're going to the derelict spaceship. After the gathering, the first batch of personnel will be assigned for rest. The second batch will depart early the next morning. Everyone go. Those on duty will have their shifts changed. Marcus will arrange it."
Marcus nodded. Kara picked up her glass, raised it towards Liu En, and took a sip without saying a word.
Liu En sat down and finished his drink. The atmosphere in the cafeteria relaxed. Lars walked over to Liu En with his glass, said nothing, just clinked glasses, took a sip, and left. Carlos didn't stand up, but simply raised his glass from a distance. The lights hummed in the pale white lampshades, and the air vents carried the cafeteria's characteristic sluggishness. Liu En placed his glass on the table, stood up, and put his tray on the conveyor belt at the recycling point. He didn't look back and walked away through the side aisle.
The corridor lights were blindingly bright in daytime mode. The garrison's training area was empty; the equipment hung on the wall and locked, the floor mopped. He returned to his private workshop, the hatch closing behind him. The workshop lights were dimmed to their lowest setting, a cool white light casting a thin layer of silver-gray on the metal walls. He lay down on his bunk, clasped his hands over his stomach, and closed his eyes.
Consciousness detached from this body, receding like a tide, and instantly surged into Enpu's body through a higher-dimensional anchor point.
Garros. The wind whipped up dust on the plains, lashing against the power armor visors. In the distance, a dark gray arc appeared on the horizon—the dome's perimeter wall was still in the foundation-laying stage. Specialized engineering machinery rapidly drove tens-of-meters-long ceramic steel piles into the ground, the piles fanning out at the predetermined depth to lock in the rock strata and form a stable foundation. These piles were driven in rows along a 200-kilometer circumference, the spacing precisely calculated. On the construction site, pile drivers, cranes, and transport vehicles moved back and forth, while the engineering crews busily worked on the ground.
Above the foundation, the construction of the wall has not yet begun. Huge ceramic steel plates are still piled up on the plain, forming small hills. The half-meter-thick plates have pre-drilled bolt holes and weld bevels, awaiting installation after the foundation has hardened. At intervals, the bases of some high-strength metal support columns have been erected, with sturdy column feet embedded in concrete, flanges protruding from the ground, and bolt holes evenly spaced.
Inside the perimeter wall, the ground had been leveled by construction machinery, with a layer of gravel laid on the compacted foundation. The first batch of pipeline trenches had been excavated, with neat grids drawn in the loess for water pipes and cables. The newly arrived construction machinery was busy on the foundation—two-meter-high inverted trapezoidal bodies with six robotic arms extending outward from the turntable joints at the top of the body, each arm equipped with different tools at its end. Some were moving piles, some were operating pile drivers, and some were laying pipes in the trenches. They worked day and night, tirelessly.