socalfunplaces Chapter 28 Convergence
Chapter 28 Convergence
On the fifth week of its subspace voyage, the Black Pearl suddenly shuddered.
It wasn't the faint tremor common in the chaotic sea, the kind that one gets used to. This tremor was deeper, more profound, as if the entire ship had been gripped from the inside by an invisible hand and then abruptly released. The purple chaos that had been churning outside the porthole for weeks was torn apart in an instant, replaced by a deep darkness and countless quietly burning stars.
Sera's voice came through the communication channel. Her tone was almost too calm, but Liu En could hear a hint of relief beneath that calmness.
"Mandeville point passed. Switching to sublight speed cruise. Current location—edge of the Sintira system. All ship status normal."
A low, suppressed commotion rose in the bridge. Several logistics personnel stood up, craning their necks to look out, as if trying to confirm if the starry sky was real. Several veterans sat quietly, but the lines on their faces, which had been taut for weeks, were visibly loosening.
Liu En leaned back in his chair, his consciousness slowly relaxing from the state of alertness he had maintained for weeks. In the subspace, he spent most of his time in his private workshop, sitting at his workbench, facing the porthole. The field always extended within a ten-meter radius around him—once the omnipotent atoms of the subspace entered this range, they would be automatically captured, decomposed, and stored in higher dimensions. The subspace had no effect on him. He had no reflection, and the whispers and illusions never approached him. Now, out of the subspace, he no longer needed to maintain that constant state of capture, and his consciousness relaxed accordingly.
He looked out at the starry sky through the porthole and remained silent for a few seconds.
"Marcus, contact Sintira Spaceport."
"Yes."
Marcus's fingers danced across the communications panel, sending out the Black Pearl's identification code and port entry request. In the real universe, communication within the same star system didn't require the intervention of a Star Speaker—ordinary shipboard communication arrays were sufficient to cover such distances. Liu En looked out the porthole at the star Sintira, burning as a bright yellowish-white dot, its light much gentler than Lucis's artificial sun.
A hissing noise came through the communication channel, followed by a deep male voice with the official tone characteristic of the Imperial Navy.
"Black Pearl, this is the Sintira Spaceport Control Center. Signal confirmed, identification code verified—a ship belonging to the Lucis Casting World, and the crew of Tier 3 Apprentice Technical Priest Cohen Severus. Welcome to the capital of the Calicis Sector."
The voice on the other end paused for a moment, as if someone had said something beside them, before continuing.
"You have been assigned an inbound route. Please navigate along the designated channel and keep your transponder on. Be aware of the volume of merchant ships in the main channel. Traffic density on the Sintira Rail is high; it is recommended to reduce your speed to 70% of the standard inbound speed."
Marcus glanced at Liu En. Liu En nodded.
"Received. Proceed to port along the marked channel. Reduce speed to 70 percent of standard speed."
Marcus disconnected the communication and turned to the navigator channel on the communication panel, saying, "Navigator, import the route. Be aware of areas with heavy traffic."
On the holographic projection platform, a blue line extends from the Black Pearl's current position towards Cintira's orbit. Dense red markers—merchant ships, cargo ships, shuttles, patrol boats—swarm along the track like a disturbed swarm of bees. In the Nest City world, home to over 25 billion people and the power center of the Calesis Sector, the daily volume of ships entering and leaving is astonishing.
The Black Pearl slowed to cruising speed and slowly entered the designated course. Its attitude control thrusters occasionally emitted faint streams of ion, leaving fleeting streaks of light in the starry sky.
A new signal flashed on the communications panel—not a one-on-one command from spaceport control, but a direct call from another ship. Marcus glanced at the identification code, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
"Captain, Ironwall. It should be Eisenhorn."
"catch."
A man's face appeared on the holographic projection platform. He had short gray hair, a sharply defined face, and a red optical lens embedded in his left eye, which was slowly adjusting its focus. He wore a deep red mechanical monastic robe, but over it was an Imperial Navy tactical vest, a somewhat casual mix of styles. The background was the sharply defined, dimly lit bridge of the ship, and the high priest behind him was likely the helmsman or technical advisor.
"Cohen Severus." The man's voice was deep, his speech slow, but each word was as clear as if etched into steel. "Ironwall, Eisenhorn. Was the journey smooth?"
Liu En nodded slightly. "The subspace fluctuations caused a few minor malfunctions, but they've all been dealt with. Did the Ironwall arrive first?"
"Five days ago." Eisenhorn's optical lenses flashed, as if he were quickly scrutinizing Liu En's face, then he glanced at the outline of the Black Pearl's bridge through the porthole behind Liu En. "The Truth Seeker arrived three days ago. Vera was getting impatient waiting for you. Cintira's berths are tight, but it's been coordinated—your berth is on B wing, not far from us. The supply pipelines have been pre-connected and can be connected directly after entering port."
"Thank you for your trouble."
Eisenhorn waved his hand dismissively, as if swatting away a trivial matter. "It's your job. You guys handle the port entry formalities first and settle the ships in. Tomorrow afternoon, on the bridge of the Ironwall, the heads of the three ships will meet. The situation at the roaming port needs to be clarified in person—some things are inconvenient to discuss over the communication channel."
"Okay. What time?"
"Four o'clock sharp. I'll have someone meet you at the gangway." Eisenhorn's optical lenses shifted again. "By the way, your ship—I saw it on the sensors. A Gothic-class?"
"right."
"It's rare to see a Tier 3 trainee technical priest piloting a Gothic-class cruiser in Lucis." Eisenhorn's tone remained unchanged, as if stating a simple fact. But Liu En could hear the subtext—he was probing, scrutinizing, trying to determine whether this young priest had risen through ability or through connections.
Liu En didn't explain, but simply said something rather bland: "We were lucky. The ship is an old one, it's been refurbished a few times, so it looks alright on the outside."
Eisenhorn stared at him for two seconds, seemingly assessing the truth of his words, then nodded. "Luck is also part of ability. See you tomorrow."
Communication was cut off.
Marcus turned his head and glanced at Liu En. Liu En leaned back in his chair, waiting. Marcus couldn't help but speak first: "Eisenhorn isn't a man of many words, but every word he says carries weight. His comment just now, 'Luck is also part of ability,' seemed like he was acknowledging you."
Liu En didn't reply, but he made a mental note of it—Eisenhorn was concise, polite, and didn't waste time. When dealing with this kind of person, you don't need to hide too much, but you absolutely can't show weakness either.
The holographic projection flickered again. This time, it showed the face of a young woman, about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with light brown hair tied in a neat high ponytail. Her features were regular, but her eyes held a liveliness rarely seen in members of the Mechanicus? Or perhaps, indifference. She wore a deep red robe of a second-tier technical craftsman, the hood drooping and the collar unbuttoned. Behind her was the bridge, much wider than her entire body, and from her side and rear, one could glimpse the edge of a porthole—the Truth Seeker, an old transport ship, at least twice the size of the Black Pearl. The light from the porthole illuminated her face, making her look more like an ordinary technician crammed into the captain's seat than some high priest.
"Father Cohen Severu!" Her voice was at least two octaves higher than Eisenhorn's, carrying the undisguised enthusiasm unique to young people. "Finally, I've met a living person! I am Vera Nazari, a second-tier technical craftsman and the head of the Truth Seeker. Just call me Vera, really, don't add 'Your Excellency,' it sounds awkward."
Liu En picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. "Nice to meet you. Cohen Severo from the Black Pearl."
Vera's gaze lingered on Liu En's face for a moment, then swept over the badge on his chest, and then over the bridge behind him. Her expression shifted from enthusiasm to an undisguised surprise. Her mouth opened slightly, and her eyes widened a little, but thankfully she remembered she was on the communication screen, and quickly regained her composure.
"Your ship..." Her voice trailed off, but she was still muttering, "a Gothic-class cruiser, a whole size bigger than the Ironwall, right? I felt something was off when I looked at it on the sensors just now. This size is beyond what the Ironclad-class can compare to."
"About right." Liu En didn't give a direct answer. "How long have you been here?"
"Three days! A full three days!" Vera's voice regained its undisguised enthusiasm, but her gaze still swept across the bridge of the Black Pearl. Even the elderly helmsman in the gray robe behind her was secretly observing Liu En's silhouette. "I'm so bored waiting for you all. I've practically explored the entire shopping area of Cintira Spaceport—and let me tell you, there's a little spice shop here. The owner is from Yumanji's area; their barbecue seasoning is exceptionally authentic. I bought several cans. Would you like me to send you a couple?"
Liu En almost choked on her coffee. "...No, thank you."
Vera then added, as if remembering something, "We're meeting on the Ironwall tomorrow afternoon, right? I'll definitely be there! Eisenhorn is such a dull guy; he holds meetings for ages without saying a word. I think you seem much easier to talk to than him. See you there!"
Communication was cut off.
Liu En put down his coffee cup. Marcus's lips twitched slightly. "This one... is very young."
"They have powerful connections," Liu En said. "To be able to manage a ship with the status of a second-tier craftsman, they must have someone behind them. But the person isn't annoying."
Marcus offered no comment, only nodding.
The Black Pearl slowly entered its berth at the Cintira Spaceport along the designated course. It was on Wing B, three berths away from the Ironwall. Through the portholes, the Ironwall's silhouette could be seen—an ironclad cruiser with obvious signs of welding repairs on its hull. Its turret layout differed from the Black Pearl's, giving it the appearance of a weathered veteran, each scar telling a story. Several patches of inconsistent color marred its armor plating, clearly repaired with materials from different batches. The seals at the base of the gun barrels were worn, gleaming with a yellowish luster. In the distance, the Truth Seeker was moored in a corner, significantly smaller than the Ironwall. The three ships were side-by-side: the Ironwall exuded stability, the Truth Seeker seemed merely there to make up the numbers, and the Black Pearl was… different.
The crew of both the Ironwall and the Truth Seeker peered through their portholes at the Black Pearl. Liu En could see several crew members in gray uniforms standing behind the Ironwall's porthole, pointing at the Black Pearl's armor lines and gesturing something. It was no wonder—while the Black Pearl's exterior had been aged, the aging was a precise simulation at the atomic level. The wear marks on the armor plates were even and natural, the rust on the rivets was just right, and overall it didn't look like a new ship, but rather had the aura of a "carefully maintained veteran." Its turret layout was more compact than the standard Gothic-class, and the propeller nozzles showed subtle signs of modification; those unseen places concealed the true killing power.
But to outsiders, it was just a decent second-hand cruiser.
With berth docking complete, the service crew began connecting the pipelines, with energy cables and supply pipes connecting to the Black Pearl's side ports like umbilical cords. Marcus stood up and straightened his uniform.
"Captain, I've arranged for Phyllis to handle the port entry formalities. Should I accompany the Ironwall to tomorrow's meeting? Also, what documents do we need to prepare?"
"Yes, we need to bring two more people." Liu En thought for a moment, "Bring Cassius along too. He had a lot of dealings with the Navy when he was with the Star Force, so he might be able to glean some information from Eisenhorn's conversation that we can't. We don't need to prepare any materials; just bring a data tablet to take notes on the key points."
Marcus nodded and turned to make the arrangements.
Liu En stood up and walked to the porthole. The external structure of the Sintira Spaceport unfolded outside the glass—a massive metal frame, a dense network of pipes and passageways, shuttles gliding silently along tracks. Through the gaps in the frame, one could see Sintira's atmosphere; beneath the gray-white clouds stretched an endless cluster of hive buildings, spires dotting the landscape, lights shimmering like a tapestry. More than 25 billion people crammed below, producing to survive, and surviving to produce. The air was thick with the smell of industrial exhaust seeping from the ventilation ducts, completely different from the dryness of Lucis and the fragrance of the Temple District—harsher, more real.
Liu En looked at the lights, remained silent for a few seconds, then turned and left the porthole.
The following afternoon, Liu En, along with Marcus and two veterans, crossed the connecting bridge and headed towards the Ironwall's berth. The connecting bridge was standard equipment at the spaceport—a gray metal walkway with emergency lights and directional signs embedded in the walls; the anti-slip steel plates underfoot produced a dull thud. Two veterans in power armor stood at the Ironwall's gangway; upon seeing the insignia on Liu En's chest, they simultaneously gave a crisp military salute and then stepped aside.
"Your Excellency Priest, the captain is waiting for you on the bridge," one of the veterans said.
The interior walls of the corridor were made of dark gray metal panels, the lighting was dim, and the air carried a unique, weathered scent characteristic of old ships. This was completely different from the dry, clean smell emanating from the brand-new filtration system on the Black Pearl. The corridors of the Ironwall were filled with a mixture of engine oil, sweat, and aged fragrances; there were fine rust marks at the pipe joints, and the anti-slip coating on the floor was mostly worn away, exposing the metal base beneath.
Passing through the airlock, we entered the bridge. The Ironwall's bridge was much narrower than the Black Pearl's, with a lower ceiling and exposed pipes and traces of welding everywhere, yet every inch of space was utilized to the fullest. Stacks of data crystals were piled in the corner, and yellowed route maps and memos covered the walls. A communications relay sergeant sat quietly in a corner, the light from his optical lens flickering slightly in the dim light. Eisenhorn stood behind the central holographic projection table, his left eye's red lens adjusting its focus.
"Sit down." Eisenhorn gestured to the chairs next to the projector, without any further formalities. The chairs were made of iron, with a thin layer of soft cushions on the seats. They looked like they had been used for a few years, and the armrests were somewhat worn.
Vera was already seated in one of the chairs. Seeing Liu En enter, she smiled at him and waved. "Your Excellency, Father! Over here!" she gestured to the chair next to her. She didn't stand up, but the enthusiasm in her voice was even stronger than during their video call yesterday—Liu En wasn't sure if she was naturally like this or if she had become like this after seeing the Black Pearl.
Liu En sat down next to Marcus. Two veterans stood on either side of the bridge entrance, alongside the veterans of the Ironwall. Cassius stood behind the veterans, expressionlessly scanning the layout of the Ironwall's bridge. His gaze lingered briefly on a few key locations before returning to his seat.
Eisenhorn got straight to the point, without any pleasantries.
"The situation at Wanderport isn't very optimistic." He traced a few lines on the holographic platform with his finger. A 3D model of Wanderport was projected onto the table—a massive naval space station, a multifaceted structure covered with turrets and sensor arrays. It guarded the choke point to the Colonus Expansion Zone; beyond that lay the wilderness—the Halo Cluster. The model was magnified twice its size, revealing every turret, every docking port on the station's surface, and even the model designations of the sensor arrays.
"Be more specific," Liu En said.
Eisenhorn glanced at Vera, then looked back. "Two of the closest patrol ships to Wanderport have been reassigned. One went to support the Calithis fleet's border patrols, and the other went back to shipyard for major repairs and won't be back for at least six months. Chaos activity along the border is more frequent than before, and the number of spies and agents has increased by at least 30%. Pirates have taken advantage of this gap. Last month, two merchant ships went missing on the Wanderport-Sintira route, suspected to be the work of pirates, but no wreckage has been found. We went there, ostensibly to stand guard and provide escort patrols, but actually to fill in for them." He tapped the edge of the projection table with his finger, the metal making a crisp sound. "How bad is the manpower shortage? Even a three-ship formation like ours has been crammed in to fill in."
Vera curled her lip. "So short-staffed that they're sending all of us over to fill in for three months. To be honest, the Truth Seeker is an old relic, fine for transport missions, but if it really comes down to fighting pirates, I'm not even sure how long its shields will last."
"So we'll have to rely on the Black Pearl for outer patrols." Eisenhorn glanced at Liu En. "Your ship is the fastest and most heavily armed of the three. The outer patrols and rapid response missions will be yours, the Ironwall will be stationed at the core, and the Truth Seeker will be responsible for station operations and supply transfers. This division of labor has been carefully considered."
Liu En didn't reply, but simply nodded. He mentally reviewed the model of the Wandering Harbor, marked a few key locations, and then memorized the mission boundaries set by Eisenhorn.
Eisenhorn continued, "Upon arrival at the Wandering Port, the three-ship formation will be led by the Ironwall. The Black Pearl will be responsible for perimeter patrols and rapid response, while the Truth Seeker will handle station duties and supply transfers. The specific rotation plan will be detailed later—the dispatchers at the Wandering Port will assign daily tasks based on their actual needs. We only need to ensure that there is always one ship patrolling outside the station, one ship on standby inside, and another ship available for rotation and rest." His gaze swept over Vera and Liu En, and after confirming that neither of them had any objections, he turned to the subsequent details—supply arrangements, communication frequency, and emergency response procedures.
"Communications are maintained, with routine reports every six hours. Calls are available immediately in emergencies. Emergency response is divided into three levels: Level 3 is routine alert, Level 2 is threat confirmation, and Level 1 is combat readiness. In Level 1, all ships will unconditionally concentrate on the threatened area and decide on their own firepower. Any questions?"
Vera shook her head. Liu En also shook his head.
"Regarding supplies, the Temple in Wandering Harbor will provide basic necessities—fuel, ammunition, and spare parts. You'll need to find additional supplies yourselves. The voyage from Sintira to Wandering Harbor takes about two weeks. Check your own inventory and report any missing items to me before you depart, and I will coordinate everything."
During the process, Vera glanced at the data panel she had brought and muttered, "The fuel and spare parts are enough, but a batch of medical supplies was missing during the last resupply. I wonder if we'll be able to get more this time." Liu En noticed that Eisenhorn's gaze repeatedly fell on the two veterans behind him—not just looking at the people, but also at their equipment. Dark red terracotta composite armor plates, explosive guns, even the spare weapon at their waists was a precision-engineered plasma pistol. He then glanced at Marcus's sidearm at his waist, but said nothing.
But Liu En noticed. In a world dominated by gray uniforms and outdated equipment, the Black Pearl's gear shone like a rising star. Eisenhorn's face remained expressionless, but his gaze lingered on the equipment for a noticeably longer than usual. Having spent decades in the Imperial Navy, his sensitivity to equipment was no less than a seasoned mechanic's intuition. He must have been wondering: where did this third-tier trainee priest get his hands on such military-grade equipment?
Vera was far less reserved. She stared at the two veterans' equipment for several seconds before finally asking, "Your Excellency, is the equipment your men are wearing... issued by the Lucis Temple? It's so advanced—bomb guns, precision plasma pistols, full sets of ceramic power armor... My men on my ship are still using laser guns."
"It wasn't issued by the Temple," Liu En said.
Vera waited two seconds, and seeing that he didn't intend to continue, she looked away with some regret, muttering under her breath, "I knew it, you must have gotten it yourself. What's your secret...?"
Eisenhorn tapped his finger twice on the projection table, and the holographic image switched to the navigation map of the Wandering Port. Three blue lines extended from Sintira toward the Wandering Port, drawing three parallel arcs on the star map. Each route was marked with its estimated travel time, supply points, and danger zones.
"We'll depart together in two days. The formation route has been finalized. Keep communications open and don't fall behind." Eisenhorn looked up, his left eye's red lens fixed on Liu En. "We'll refine the situation at the roaming port as we go—some things will only become clear when we get there. For example, who we'll be coordinating with, what the garrison arrangements are like—we'll only know this information once we arrive. There's no point in talking about it on paper now."
Liu En nodded, indicating that he understood. Vera also nodded, her previous carefree expression disappearing.
Without going into any more tedious details, the meeting ended. The Ironwall and the Truth Seeker each had their own channels; the distribution of the roaming port's profits would be discussed there. Eisenhorn gave one last glance at the route map on the holographic projection table, then tapped two fingers on the table twice as a gesture of closure.
Liu En stood up, Marcus following behind him. As they stepped off the Ironwall's communication corridor, the lights behind them dimmed, and the stark white lights of the Cintira Spaceport at the exit shone on their faces, making him squint. Marcus muttered, "The Ironwall's condition is so-so, but Eisenhorn is no ordinary man. He served in the Navy for at least thirty years; anyone who can emerge unscathed from that environment and join the Mechanical Repair Society is no pushover. Calm people usually know what's going on."
Liu En didn't reply, but simply nodded and continued walking forward.
Back on the Black Pearl, he stood by the porthole on the bridge, looking at the silhouettes of three ships in their berths. The Ironwall was over there, the Truth Seeker was in the corner, and the Black Pearl was over here. Above the world of over 25 billion people, three silent ships sat in their respective berths, each carrying its own past and mission.
Two days later, we set off together, traversing darkness and chaos to reach the steel gate that guards the throat of the Colonus Expansion Sector. Wandering Harbor, the outermost Imperial outpost of the Calicith Sector, is Lucis's forward outpost forging the world. There, a transport route for adamantite ore needs to be protected, and secret research facilities for alien artifacts need to be hidden.