Can Ci Pin - - - Chapter 143

Chapter 143 – Half a Year Later

Planet Qiming, half an independent year later.

What could one accomplish within 200 days?

Zhanlu’s chameleon didn’t even have the chance to finish circling the house, and poor Popcorn was still as timid as before, still trembling in fear whenever he saw the grim expression on his new roommate’s face at home.

Yet only two seasons had passed on planet Qiming.

Lin Jingheng was officially appointed the Grand Marshal of the Eighth Galaxy; while it sounded like he received a promotion and was about to step into the peak of his life, in reality it was far from anything like that. In terms of territorial control, when Commander Lin was still the top commander of the Silver Fortress overseeing all the stationed military within the Union’s eight galaxies, every word from his mouth could be interpreted and analyzed a million times across all eight galaxies. This time, the ‘eight galaxies’ turned into ‘The Eighth Galaxy’–his rank actually fell from the top commander down to a security supervisor for a rural team out on the edges of the galaxy. He could even take public transportation to and from work everyday without having a crowd of people surrounding him like a zoo animal.

Of course, half a year’s worth of time was still tight for all the work that needed to be completed. Human Resources needed to be reassigned and new jobs were still in transition; everyone had barely settled in their new departments.

The reorganized Silver Fourth Squadron still didn’t pass Commander Lin’s strict standards and tests; they were unsurprisingly the punching bags of their colleagues in the annual ‘tournament’ within the Silver Ten. Anakin was personally dragged out by Lin Jingheng to be scolded, which earned him the spotlight, complete with a full audience that laughed at their misfortune. The Captain of the Sixth Squadron watched in admiration–their squad was often skipped over during the Marshal’s weekly scolding of the troops because he simply forgot about them, making poor Captain Liu of the Sixth Squadron feel that he wasn’t given enough attention by his boss.

Half a year ago, the Eighth Galaxy saw a resurgence of a ‘Lu Xin hype’ that resulted in three whole television dramas about Commander Lu Xin’s life being aired within a few months that were still going strong to this day. Meanwhile, Lu Bixing’s habit of waking up in the middle of the night hadn’t seen much improvement; after an episode of panic in the middle of the night, he would regain consciousness, pretend nothing happened and fix Lin Jingheng’s blanket. Then, he would cling onto the commander like a koala and physically wake Lin Jingheng with his body heat, followed by shoving the blanket aside. It started off with him waking up two or three times in one night, but now the frequency had been reduced to waking up once every two or three days. Time was like drops of water hitting a rock: while it may not have created a dent immediately, over time hundreds and thousands of drops could even pierce through a hard rock. Perhaps in another few months, the Prime Minister would need Commander Lin’s personal wake-up service to ensure he wasn’t late to work everyday.

Changes in people and mundane everyday life were smooth and rhythmic, but technological advancement was like moss on a moist rock.

When the Eighth Galaxy first discovered the natural wormhole zone, half of the Expedition Team that ventured in did not return. Many years later, they could now stabilize the dangerous passage with massive scientific theories and data as their foundation, making even greater leaps in the field of research each day.

When Lu Bixing personally escorted the Silver Ten back to the Eighth Galaxy, Turan was still agonizing over the unstable connection between the two parties. Today, it took less than 200 days for the Engineering Team to build a stable space station and communication channel mimicking the design and principle functions of a transfer portal–

The mechanical experiment had already been completed successfully. By the end of the 12th Independent Year, with Mint leading, three volunteers from the Expedition Team connected their individual mental networks and prepared to sail a standard starship fleet through the natural wormhole.

The entire fleet was made up of 24 standard-sized starships filled with experimental plants and animals. Each starship weighed sixteen times that of a fully loaded superdimensional heavy mech.

Intergalactic transfer portals often had weight limits with standard values of 16, 18, or 24, which indicated the amount of fully-loaded starships that could successfully pass through all at once. Of course, these numbers meant nothing during wartime when people were frantically emergency warping away from a bunch of flying missiles.

But these public terminals were not designed for war. Twenty-four fully-loaded starships was the limit of human-made transfer portals so far; once this experiment succeeded, it would mean that the Heart of the Rose had been fully conquered by mankind.

“Mint, come here!”

Mint turned her head away from her final preparation work and noticed the crowd by the door, then immediately realized who had come. She rolled her eyes, made a helpless expression and passed through the crowd with a stern expression: “Minister Lu.”

Ever since the first successful passage through the wormhole, the Expectation Team had seen a dramatic transformation overnight and became a popular department for fearless new interns. These new faces were all freshly out of their cages and curiously surrounded the Prime Minister that dropped by to visit like a crowd of tourists around a zoo animal.

Lu Bixing dealt with the crowd of kids that came up for a handshake and turned his head towards Mint: “You still have two hours until you all depart, do you have ten minutes to spare for me?”

Mint gestured at the team captain to shoo away all the spectators and took Lu Bixing into a break room.

Mint complained to him: “ Dad , if you keep visiting, people will think we’re relatives or something and won’t take me out on expeditions next time.”

“They shouldn’t be letting you out in the first place; there used to be a universal rule within the top research institutes in the Union that all experiments potentially dangerous to human researchers must be conducted by experienced people over the age of 40.” Lu Bixing sighed, “I always thought that Jingshu’s personality was more rash but also meticulous; White has an endlessly curious heart that often gets him into trouble, but your dreams were the most normal and understandable out of them all. Even if you wanted to start a business, you were always the more dependable child in my eyes. Who knew that you would end up taking up the most dangerous job?”

“Who can one-up me in experience? I may be young but I’ve got a loaded resume; I’m one of the foundational members of the Expedition Team and passed through the wormhole twice already.” Mint lifted her eyebrow rebelliously. “You’re already talking like an old dad at a young age, aren’t you afraid that Commander Lin would scorn you?”

Lu Bixing’s hands subconsciously slid into his pockets as he heard the young girl mention her other stringent ‘father’ only to remember there was nothing there–two days earlier Zhanlu had ratted out the incident where Lu Bixing once extinguished the fire of a cigarette on his skin, which Lu Bixing, who had already forgotten such an event, refuted absolutely. However, Lin Jingheng clearly believed the words of a chatty AI to be more reliable and took away Lu Bixing’s pack of smokes, then refused to talk to him for a whole day out of fury.

Lu Bixing responded dryly: “……I’d like to believe he would have no reason to be mad at me on this particular aspect.”

He paused for a moment before he suddenly said: “The last person who spoke to me like this was Saturday.”

Mint fell silent.

Saturday was a name that very few in the Eighth Galaxy would bring up. As the offspring of a smuggler, he was one of the first people to open his eyes from that nightmarish reality and attempt to break out of the ignominious ‘fate of the Eighth Galaxy.’ He was one of the first to be accepted into the Silver Ninth Squadron, proving that even ‘trash’ can become proper individuals of value. He had been a hero on numerous occasions and ended his short life as one; his name should have been engraved in history with honor, but he missed his chance because one thoughtless mistake cost the lives of thousands and almost pushed the Eighth Galaxy into ruins.

Mint had once talked back to Lin Jingheng for him, and hadn’t been able to walk out of that quick communication exchange for sixteen years.

“Teach……”

“Hm?”

“Do you hate him? Do you hate Saturday?”

“I don’t want to pretend to be benevolent.” Mint’s eyes dimmed as Lu Bixing answered. He then paused for a few moments before continuing, “But…a mistake made in a moment of weakness cannot be condemned sometimes, because it wasn’t planned. You also can’t be sure that if you were in his position at the time that you could really make the most unbiased judgement…at least I don’t think I could have.”

He had once heard the story of how when he was young, Saturday had witnessed the little girl beside him float into space inside an ecopod. He didn’t take it to heart after he heard it and sympathized briefly, thinking that there were plenty more tragic stories in the world.

Until he personally experienced that same loss once.

“By the way, Teach,” Mint said, “we still have the footage of the Seventh and Eighth Galaxy battle that year from the military recorder off the mech we found during our first wormhole travel. Didn’t you ask me to analyze all the data from it last time?”

Lu Bixing: “Hm?”

“It’s odd,” Mint said. “Zhanlu’s records said that the AUS hadn’t left by the time his core body was destroyed, but the footage we discovered showed that there weren’t any signs of other armed forces present at the time. I don’t think the Freedom Corps would suddenly appear before the AUS unprompted, right? From the time Zhanlu was destroyed to the time the AUS fully retreated, at least over half an hour had passed…but a portion of the AUS fleet was also dragged into the explosion at the time it happened. You wouldn’t be able to tell if you didn’t pay attention. Do you think this had something to do with how Commander Lin managed to survive?”

Lin Jingheng had only lightly glossed over what happened after the AUS ambush at the transfer portal that year, mentioning that his ecopod had been captured by the Freedom Corps. As for how they captured it and how long it had taken, he refused to give any detailed explanation and only said, “I was inside the ecopod, how would I know?”

Regarding this, Doctor Hardin also kept his mouth shut.

Lu Bixing had gone from reluctance and fear of asking in the beginning to growing more curious by the day. By the end of it, his morbid curiosity got the best of him and began tugging his heartstrings until his scientist soul was unleashed from his flesh. He began to theorize about various scenarios and attempted to recreate the scene from back then; when his hypotheses failed, he would bother Lin Jingheng. If his curiosity didn’t get quenched, at least his body could be satisfied.

In the beginning, Lin Jingheng was simply too lazy to describe the course of events in detail, with no intention of hiding the truth. However, as he discovered that Lu Bixing had eventually learned to actively seek answers and bury himself in numerous calculations without letting the pain in his heart consume him, the commander silently decided to go with the flow and kept it a secret on purpose.

“Huh, that sure is a new discovery.” Lu Bixing rubbed his chin in deep thought. Within the blink of an eye, he came up with a new way to trick Doctor Hardin and got ready to probe the poor old doctor. “Have a safe trip.”

When the experimental starship began its journey through the wormhole, Wolto also captured the abnormal energy waves coming from the forbidden zone on the clock.

Chief Commander Woolf signed the Union’s official 306th Decree regarding the Eighth Galaxy.

“Mister Secretary General—”

“Good morning, Secretary General.”

Wang Ailun walked quickly through the hallways of the Union Parliament building wearing a very slim-fitting black long coat. He didn’t respond verbally but glanced at everyone that greeted him as minimum courtesy.

This new Secretary General from the Military Council retained the military’s tradition of keeping up a good public image regardless of the occasion. Despite being 218 years old already, he still looked to be in good health; his stature was still tall and straight, footsteps fast-paced and full of energy like a young man. Every part of his body, down to a strand of hair, exemplified discipline and dignity.

Wang Ailun’s character was much more humble and quiet, but he was surprisingly skilled in all aspects. Compared to the noble and fragile young masters who claimed this seat back when the Eden Committee still held the Union’s political power, he was almost a gem amongst these plain rocks.

A swarm of reporters flooded the press room before the media coverage team could walk back into the conference room after setting up the room: “Secretary General Wang!”

“Mister Secretary General, is it true that Chief Woolf was sent to emergency treatment last night?”

“Mister Wang, some sources have claimed that the old Chief is starting to experience DNA deterioration, is this true?”

“The Chief signed the 306th Decree of the Union’s Military Council yesterday, was he still conscious at the moment of signing this decree?”

“Secretary General, some people have said that the Chief had already fallen into a disoriented state six months ago and someone has been using him as a puppet to give out orders, what do you think about this?”

“Secretary General…”

A few guards walked up and pushed off some of the media robots that got a bit too close to the Secretary General in fear they would run into the man. Wang Ailun walked past the crowd of robots expressionlessly and kindly asked the human reporters to make way for him.

He walked straight toward the podium and gave a cordial smile to the audience.

His eyebrows were clean and thin, giving off a strange air of surprising androgyny on his otherwise average face. When he smiled, his expression would give off a unique kind of friendliness, as if the person behind the smile was a kind and gentle soul that would never speak a lie.

The press room that sounded like a farmer’s market gradually quieted down.

“The old Chief has been swamped with conflict and unrest for his whole life. Many people hiding in the shadows have wished to see this immovable guardian of the Union fall, but–” Wang Ailun paused, scanned the audience beneath him and continued, “Unfortunately for them, he has not fallen yet.”

“You mean the old Chief is still very healthy and alive right now? Then why doesn’t Chief Woolf attend this press conference himself?”

“Greetings, friend from the Wolto Daily; I’m unsure what your standard of ‘healthy’ is, but the old Chief is still conscious and clear-minded. His DNA has not been hit by the pop reaction, but he is a man of almost 320 years old; he can’t possibly be playing rugby at his age.” Wang Ailun responded calmly, “Besides, the 306th Decree the old Chief signed was an important bill that affected the Central Militia of all seven galaxies. You all should know that the official procedure requires the central government, Parliament, Legislative Council, and representatives of all Central Militia within the seven galaxies to be present as witnesses. The witness list is already public on the official Union Government website; everyone can access and check it. Perhaps some conspiracy theorists would assume that everyone present could be controlled secretly by someone, but if that was the case, the core members of the Union’s Military Council would have completely fallen apart by now. Someone would have already stepped up and announced a new generation of leaders by this point, then what would be the purpose of gathering everyone here today to discuss these rumors?”

The endless chatter that filled the room started to be muffled as the people sitting inside the conference room also began chuckling in agreement with the Secretary General. The entire press conference ended with a livestream speech from Chief Woolf himself; the old Chief still maintained his familiar demeanor and tone of voice when he spoke, showing no signs of aging or growing senile, as if he could live on for another hundred years.

The representative from the Wolto Daily was a middle-aged woman who followed the crowd out after packing up her reporting robot. She kindly declined all offers to share a ride and walked to a private vehicle that took her directly to a rural area outside of the valley. She skillfully connected to a secret underground network with anti-tracking protection to contact a certain individual.

“The witness list of the 306th Decree signing is out; Wang Ailun can’t possibly control every single person in this list. There’s also no way the representatives of the Central Militia would mistake their top military commander, and Woolf even showed up at the conference earlier through a stream. We’ve asked numerous questions regarding the 306th Decree during the conference but none of the answers given were out of line.”

The figure of a certain individual appeared on her personal device–it was Prophet Harris of the AUS: “The 306th Decree drastically changed the structure of the entire Union’s military stationing system on a fundamental organizational level. It adjusted the terminals of sixteen military fortresses and stationed heavy troops near the Heart of the Rose while cutting down defense near the borders and outskirts of the galaxies. What does that mean? Do they see the Eighth Galaxy as a bigger threat than the anti-government organizations hiding in the shadows? This decision doesn’t seem like something Woolf would do.”

“I don’t know,” the reporter said, “but I’ve heard that the Eighth Galaxy made a breakthrough in the area of wormhole research and can already send stable signals through the wormhole. Perhaps this has something to do with the decree?”

Harris–formerly Hope, shook his head: “Woolf has been the Chief Commander of the Union for two centuries. Since the founding of the Interstellar Union, the most respected and powerful military leaders have been raised by him; even if he does think this way, he would never make such an obvious move. Some of the Central Military have already voiced their concerns regarding this decree. Besides, I haven’t been able to contact him in over six months–can you find a way to meet him in person?”