Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 40 Departure

Liu En's consciousness was withdrawn from the private workshop on the Black Pearl and flowed into another body like water.

The standard crew cabin on the Resolute was small and poorly soundproofed. Enp opened his eyes and sat up from his bunk. At 1.9 meters tall, he looked somewhat cramped under the low ceiling. A dark gray robe was folded at the head of the bed, which he pulled over and put on, habitually pulling the hood down to cover most of his face.

Hawke's hoarse voice came over the loudspeaker: "Prepare for departure. All personnel in position."

Enp didn't move. He leaned against the bulkhead, eyes closed, listening to the footsteps of the crew in the corridor. The Resolute slowly reversed from its berth, the ion stream from the attitude thrusters silently spraying outwards. The vibrations were very slight, almost imperceptible. Occasionally, brief conversations between the first mate and port control could be heard over the loudspeaker—course confirmation, speed adjustments, and clearance instructions.

He rose and walked to the porthole. The armored hatch hadn't yet fallen, and through the thick bulletproof glass, he could see the lights of the Lucis Spaceport filling the darkness. The outline of the dock gradually shrank, and the berths disappeared at the edge of his vision.

The thrusters ignited, and the ship shuddered slightly. The Resolute turned, heading towards the unseen path in space. Hawke's command came over the loudspeaker: "Cruising speed. Destination: Garros. Estimated arrival time at Mandeville point—eighteen hours later."

Enp left the porthole and paced back and forth in the cramped cabin. The bed was narrow, and the table was small, but it was enough. He sat down, took out the data panel, looked at the star map of Garros for a while, then turned it off and put it back in his pocket.

Occasionally, someone would pass by in the corridor. Footsteps, whispers, and the clinking of cutlery coming from the direction of the mess hall. The Resolute had entered a long, routine voyage. There was no warp chaos, no hum of the Void Shield, only the continuous, steady thrust of the main thrusters, and the unchanging starry sky outside the porthole.

Enp stepped out of the cabin and walked around the main passageway. The nearly one thousand beetle-like servants in the cargo hold remained in standby mode, their mechanical arms and nozzles retracted. The cargo containers of the spaceport module were stacked nearby, their straps taut. Several sailors, who were squatting in a corner of the cargo hold playing cards, stood up and saluted when they saw him enter. Enp waved and turned to leave.

A few people were still drinking synthetic coffee in the mess hall. Enpu took one, picked up the cup, and sat down in a corner. No one came over to talk to him. He finished his coffee, put the cup back in the recycling bin, returned to his cabin, lay back down on his bunk, and closed his eyes.

Hawke's voice came over the radio again, this time with a more serious tone.

"Attention all personnel. Approaching Mandeville point. Warm-up warp engines. All personnel return to designated positions. Close all porthole armored hatches. Repeat: Close all porthole armored hatches."

Enpu stood up, walked out of his compartment, and headed towards the bridge. The corridor lights were dimmer than usual, and the emergency lights cast a dark red trail underfoot. The crew moved from their compartments and posts to their designated positions; no one spoke, only the sound of footsteps filled the air.

The bridge was at the bow of the ship. Pushing open the airtight door, Captain Hawke stood behind the conning tower, his back ramrod straight, his mechanical right arm hanging at his side. The first mate stood beside him, a cup of now-cold synthetic coffee in his hand, staring intently at the fluctuating gravity readings on the navigation panel. All the armored covers on the portholes were down, the thick terrazzo plates completely blocking out the outside view. Only the faint glow of the instrument panels and indicator lights remained in the bridge.

Enp walked behind Hawke and glanced at the navigation panel. The coordinates of the Mandeville point were locked, and the gravitational fluctuation curve was oscillating violently on the screen.

"My lord." Hawke turned his head.

Enp nodded.

"We are about to enter subspace." Hawke's voice echoed throughout the ship via the loudspeaker. "All personnel, hold your positions. Countdown."

A tremor surged from the depths of the ship. The power of the subspace engines increased, and the energy coils emitted an increasingly loud hum.

"Three, two, one. Start."

The ship shuddered violently.

Hawke felt the vibration in his hand—that deep, pulsating feeling that surged up from the very bottom of the engine room. Then his expression changed slightly. The mechanical right arm hung in mid-air, and the first mate beside him nearly spilled his coffee.

The powerful propulsion response was completely unlike that of the aging transport ship, the Resolute. The cooling system pressure remained steadily within its optimal range, the subspace engine's auxiliary circuit output was smooth, and the readings on the instrument panels remained perfectly still. The Resolute still looked the same. The pipe surfaces still bore decades of accumulated rust and grime, but the parts invisible to the naked eye were all brand new.

Hawke said nothing. He released the start lever and let his hands hang naturally. "Perseverance, jump successful." The first mate's voice was a little strained.

"I understand," Hawke said, offering only two words.

All non-essential screens on the bridge had been switched to data mode. Behind the armored panel, the warp was churning. The crew members lowered their heads, staring at their instrument panels.

Enp walked forward from the side and rear of the control panel, glanced at the navigation parameters on the data terminal, and turned to Hawke: "The course is stable. You're in charge now."

He left the bridge and returned to the crew quarters.

After closing the hatch, Enp sat down on the cramped berth. The field unfolded. A spherical field with a radius of nearly twenty meters penetrated the armor of the Resolute, touching the surging chaos outside the ship. Universal atoms from the subspace flooded into his perception range, decomposed, stored, and archived.

Several hours passed. Enpu went to the galley to get a meal—starch pancakes and vegetable puree—which he ate in a few bites. He returned to his cabin and lay down on his berth.

I had barely lain down when there were three knocks on the hatch. The rhythm was steady; it was Hawke.

"Come in."

Hawke pushed open the door and stood in the cramped cabin. He glanced at Enp, his lips moving as if he were choosing his words.

"Sir, there's something I need to tell you," Hawke said in a low voice. "The Resolute is currently heading to Garros, and later it will be going to Amegiddon to pick up more people. After the cargo holds are converted into passenger holds, the number of people on board will increase significantly. With the current crew, we can't keep up with everyone."

Enpu looked at him without saying a word.

"What I mean is," Hawkton paused, "we need to increase the guard force. We'll have to recruit some more when we get back."

Enp sat up and leaned against the bulkhead.

"I know you ran Amighiddon before."

Hawke's pupils contracted sharply. His mechanical right arm hung in mid-air, and the old scar on his face appeared particularly deep in the dim light. He stared at Enp for several seconds, then lowered his voice: "Sir, how...how did you know?"

Enp didn't answer. He just looked at Hawke, paused for a moment, and then said, "Be discerning when you're pretending to be someone. Don't bring in those with ill intentions."

Hawke paused for a moment, then nodded. He had spent his entire life on ships, from Amighadoon to Lucis, from Lucis to the border, and had seen all sorts of people. Fugitives mixed in with refugees, heretics trying to board ships to cause trouble, even pirate spies—he could tell them off at a glance.

"Rest assured, sir." Hawke's voice regained its composure. "Having been on ships for so many years, I have the discernment to tell you what I'm capable of. I will personally oversee the process and screen them one by one."

Enp nodded.

Hawke didn't ask any more questions, saluted, turned around and closed the door.

The cabin fell silent again. Enpu lay back down on his bunk, pulled up his hood, and clasped his hands over his stomach.

Then, consciousness gently tapped the anchor point and surged into Cohen's body.

Breathing becomes even and slow. The body falls silent.

The Black Pearl, a private workshop.

Liu En opened his eyes. The hybrid design on the workbench, which combined the Dark Eldar cloaking array with the Imperial energy network, was still suspended in mid-air. He turned off the projector, stood up, and walked out of the workshop.

In the reception room, Commander Kara had been waiting for a while. A data board was spread out on the long table.

"Captain, Lucis's veteran recruitment can basically only go this far," Kara said calmly. "The first five hundred were the last batch of combat-ready veterans we could scavenge from the slums and demobilization camps of the Underhive. They were destitute back then, not because no one wanted them—quite the opposite, because they were too badly wounded and too old, and were filtered out by those forces that offered better treatment. The Black Pearl gave them stable food and lodging and decent treatment, so they came."

She paused, then turned to a page of the data panel.

"Later, we added more than a hundred people, in similar situations, but their quality was not as good as the first batch. Now we can't even find those. For the remaining spots, we had to lower the standards and recruit new soldiers from ordinary people who had never been to the battlefield."

Liu En leaned back in his chair.

"New recruits are new recruits. Veterans can train them, and they'll get the job done."

"That's what I mean too," Kara said. "The veterans are still there, the core leadership is intact. Given time, even new recruits can be trained."

He knew perfectly well why he needed to recruit veterans. Those who had been repeatedly crushed, selected, and survived the Empire's high-intensity wars were all walking war machines. Their bodies might be disabled, their reactions might be slow, but their ingrained fighting instincts—the ability to identify Orks, the instinct to detect Chaos cultists, the muscle memory for psionic phenomena—could not be taught in any training ground. These veterans before him were the best seeds. They didn't need to be at the forefront; they just needed to stand there and pass on their experience and will.

"If we have the chance in the future, we'll go see other worlds," Liu En said. "The remnants of the Kadia forces scattered abroad, the ice warriors of Vahar, even those who crawled out of the ruins of Mordian—the Empire has plenty of veterans who have fought hard battles, they just aren't in Lucis."

Kara glanced at him, didn't ask any further questions, and nodded. "Understood. I'll keep an eye on it."

She paused for a moment. "The Empire's high-intensity war is a meat grinder. There are very few Star Force veterans who can retire alive, and even fewer who can continue fighting. In Lucis, the truly capable ones have long been picked off. Those who remain are either physically incapacitated or have never even touched a bomb gun."

Kara closed the data panel. "The garrison regiment's current structure includes the core members of three infantry companies. Weapons and equipment are sufficient. The soldiers trained by these veterans will be excellent."

"understood."

Liu En took some time to visit the Fair Maxim Forging Temple. It was a report-taking trip—the mission to the Wandering Port had just ended, and the entire delegation from the Lucis Forging World stationed there had been withdrawn for some time. As the captain of his subordinate ship, he should at least make an appearance at the temple.

Two rows of guardian soldiers stood at the entrance to the temple. The leading sergeant, seeing the badge on Liu En's chest, announced his identity using a binary pulse and stepped aside to let him through. Further down the corridor, several mechs maintained the Thinker array in a corner. In the main hall, someone was chanting softly, and the gear-and-skull chandelier on the dome rotated slowly.

The meeting was arranged in the reception room of the administration building. The decoration wasn't particularly luxurious, with a long, dark metal table and chairs with straight backs. A holographic screen was embedded in the wall, scrolling through some dispatch data that Liu En wasn't interested in looking at.

He was received by a disciple of Aurelius Cornelius. The gray-robed technical priest was a man of few words; he simply finished reading the roaming port mission report submitted by Liu En.

"The sage requests that you come to his office after the meeting."

Liu En was led further down the corridor. The office had several new data panels than when he last visited, and several holographic star maps hung on the walls. The sesame cakes on the plate were still warm, and the frankincense in the oven had just been refilled with fresh ingredients.

Aurelius Cornelius sat behind the workbench. The optical lens of the mechanical head was aimed at Liu En, zooming in and out. His crimson robe was inlaid with gold gear patterns.

"Please sit down, Cohen Severo."

Aurelius tapped his fingers twice on the workbench, and several data archives appeared, hovering in mid-air. "I've reviewed the battle logs from the Wandering Harbor. Helios has a very high opinion of the Black Pearl."

Liu En did not respond.

Orelius's optical lenses shifted slightly. "The elder behind you... I'm quite interested in him. When would be a convenient time to introduce us?"

Liu En picked up his teacup and took a sip. "The elder is currently dealing with an important matter that may take several years or even decades to complete. I will inform the sage as soon as I return."

Aurelius didn't press the matter. The Temple was keeping track of the Wandering Harbor issue, the information Cohen had released, and the Black Pearl's performance. In fact, the Forgeworld was meticulous about every single one of its assets. The Forgeworld was essentially an imperial military state within a state, built on technological patents and industrial capacity. In their eyes, everything—the ships, the dispatched high-ranking technical priests, the think tank system—every single component embedded in this massive machine was an asset. It's just that some assets were more valuable.

After lingering a while longer, confirming that the Black Pearl was not scheduled for any missions in the Temple's next period of dispatching foreign ships, Liu En took his leave. Although it was described as a selective mission, it was essentially a mandatory one; the Forging World didn't care about the tax breaks or anything like that.