manynovel Chapter 73 Star Tower
Chapter 73 Star Tower
Liu En sat in his private workshop, a deep red fifth-tier sage's robe hanging on a rack in the corner, the gold gear patterns along the hem gleaming dimly under the cold white light. He wore the old robe, the hood pulled low, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. This posture made it look like he was dozing, but his consciousness was no longer in this body.
He realized he hadn't thought about that world with sunshine and cell phones for a long time. It wasn't that he'd deliberately forgotten; those memories were like faded old photographs, the details blurred even when he looked at them again. He remembered the temperature of the sunlight, but couldn't recall the last time he'd stood in it. This thought swirled in his mind before settling down.
The servants wouldn't knock on the door, and the crew wouldn't bother him. This was the only space on the entire ship that belonged entirely to him.
He would appear on the Black Pearl every day. Not necessarily on the bridge, not necessarily at a fixed time. Sometimes it was in the mess hall, sitting in a corner for half an hour, drinking a cup of synthetic coffee, listening to the veterans boast; sometimes it was in the hangar, standing at the gangway watching the service crew move supplies; sometimes it was in the corridor, walking past the garrison's training area, nodding to the veterans on guard. The crew was used to the captain's elusive style.
The consciousness lingered in that body for a while, dealt with the urgent matters, and then switched back. Each time it switched back, the lights in the workshop were still the same few, the data boards were still the same few, and the coffee had long since gone cold.
He walked to the porthole and sat down. Outside the porthole was a churning purple chaos. This was one of only two portholes not covered by armor plating during the Black Pearl's subspace voyage; the other was in the navigation cabin. The field unfolded. A spherical perception with a radius of over twenty meters extended outward from his body—penetrating the workshop's bulkheads, penetrating the armor layers, and probing into the subspace outside the ship.
The moment the field crossed the armor layer, the surrounding subspace matter began to change its flow direction.
The Black Pearl was navigating in subspace. The chaotic turbulence that had been flowing naturally around the ship—some surging from the bow, some sweeping past the sides, some leaving long vortices at the stern—suddenly changed course upon entering the field's radius. Not blocked, but drawn in. The omnipotent atoms suspended in the chaotic sea, along with the various indescribable subspace sediments interspersed within, seemed to sense an irresistible call and began to deflect towards the center of the field.
The most concentrated material flowed from the bow. The field acted like an invisible sponge, absorbing, breaking down, and stripping away the oncoming chaotic flow. The turbulence that would have collided with the Geller field in front of the ship lost its kinetic energy upon entering the rarefied zone. Material from the sides and stern replenished the low-pressure areas created by the evacuation from all directions.
This is a dynamic balance. As the Black Pearl sails forward, it creates a constantly moving "clean zone" around itself. Matter in front of the ship is broken down, while matter from the sides and rear continuously flows in to fill the gap, and the entire flow field is reorganized around the Black Pearl. The purple chaos that should have been churning around the ship has become a calm, slowly flowing underground river under the influence of its field, and the Black Pearl glides silently in the center of this underground river.
The crew didn't know any of this. All they knew was that the Black Pearl's subspace travel was more stable than any other ship.
The Black Pearl remained completely still. This wasn't a new phenomenon; it had been like this since its very first entry into the warp. The veterans were long accustomed to it. Someone had boasted in the mess hall—"I've been in the Navy for twenty-three years, and I've never been on such a stable ship"—but the initial surprise was gone, replaced by a bland statement of fact. New recruits would sense something was amiss upon boarding; their common sense dictated that the ship would begin to tremble the moment the porthole armor panels fell, anticipating that deep, guttural shudder. But nothing happened.
The veterans would pat them on the shoulder and say, "That's just how the Black Pearl is, you'll get used to it."
No one questioned the reason. In the Imperial Navy and merchant fleet, every ship had its own "temperament." Some ships had reactors that whine, some had gravity generators that were perpetually off-center on the third deck, and some had corridor lights that flickered inexplicably during subspace travel—the crew attributed these to the "nature of the machine." The Black Pearl's nature was simply stability. So stable that it didn't seem like a ship, but more like a fossil suspended in amber.
Liu En wouldn't explain. It was his secret, and also his advantage. This advantage would be enormous when the Black Pearl served as the lead ship, sailing alongside other vessels in the subspace. Whether subspace storm isolation would be effective was currently unclear.
The stockpile of universal atoms in the warehouse continues to grow. He maintains this state for several hours every day. The field is maintained, matter flows in, atoms are stored, and his consciousness simultaneously processes blueprints in a higher-dimensional space—optimizing the parameters of the servant production line, the iterative upgrade plan for the CMC-200 mortal power armor, and deducing the scheduling protocol for the orbital defense platform.
This is the quietest time of his day. There are no decisions he needs to make, no communications he needs to respond to, and no people he needs to deal with. There is only the field, the atoms, and the blueprint.
The Black Pearl sailed alone in the warp. The Resolute and ten transport ships had already headed towards Armageddon when they parted ways with Lucis—but while the two routes were close, their speeds were vastly different. As a cruiser, the Black Pearl's warp speed far exceeded that of the civilian transport ships. When the Black Pearl was nearing Garros, the slow-moving convoy led by the Resolute was probably still cruising at warp speed in the warp, at least several weeks away from Armageddon.
After checking the voyage log on the bridge, Marcus casually remarked, "The immigrant convoy will probably be a few more weeks away from reaching Amegiddon."
No one responded. This was expected.
The Black Pearl, carrying nearly 200,000 family members and a full Star Language choir, headed straight for Garros.
This choir was recruited by Liu En while he was in Lucis. The Nazari family's old connections within the Star Language Hall proved invaluable—Old Nazari used his connections to find the head of the Star Language Hall's Lucis branch. The head wasn't initially enthusiastic, but Liu En's fifth-tier sage title played a decisive role. A sage personally applying to form a choir meant that this group wasn't going to some remote world to die, but rather to an autonomous territory recognized by an empire-approved high-ranking forging sage. The benefits were excellent, the facilities complete, and it was generally far from war zones.
Recruitment was swift. One lead singer, five backing singers, and twelve auxiliary psionicists were recruited. They had undergone a soul-binding ritual before departure, their neural structures reshaped by psionic energy, making them resistant to warp invasion. Their eyes were burned during the ritual, but star-speakers don't need physical eyes anyway.
Hera Voss remains the star communicator for the Black Pearl, responsible for the ship's own communications. The choir will be stationed at the star relay station in Garros, handling external communications for the entire system. These are two separate systems.
The voyage was so calm it was almost uninspiring. Sierra called out "subspace current stable" a few times in the navigation cabin, his tone as flat as reciting a menu. Marcus wrote "no anomalies" in the watch log and went to the mess hall for coffee. He'd served in the Navy for twenty-three years, and had spent almost two years on the Black Pearl; he was long since desensitized to this smooth sailing. If the ship were to suddenly shake, he'd likely check the sensors for malfunctions first.
The atmosphere on the bridge was as relaxed as a routine cruise, rather than navigating a chaotic sea. The communications officer leaned back in his chair, flipping through outdated navigational notices, while the sensor officer glanced at his screen every now and then. No one was tense, no one was reciting prayers, and no one was pale. Newly boarded family members ate, chatted, and played with their children in the mess hall. Occasionally, someone would ask, "Is this what subspace navigation is like?" To which a veteran would reply without looking up, "That's how it is on the Black Pearl."
When Liu En came out of the workshop, the coffee in the canteen was still hot. He took a cup and sat down in a corner. At the long table, some people were playing cards, some were flipping through data boards, and some were bragging. The families had already adapted to life on the ship; the children ran around in the corridor, only to be pulled back by their mothers by the back of their collars. An old man sat by the window, a paper book open in front of him—a real paper book, a rare item in this era. He was reading the history of the Imperial Navy, pausing at a certain page, pointing to an illustration with his finger, and then continuing to turn the pages.
Liu En finished his coffee, put the cup back in the recycling bin, walked back to the workshop, and sat down by the porthole. The field unfolded again. The Black Pearl continued to glide in subspace, the matter around the hull constantly being decomposed, replenished, and decomposed again. That stable flow never ceased.
The Black Pearl's hull was free of subspace deposits. The dark purple crystals that had condensed on the wrecked hulls for millennia never appeared on the ship's armor plating. It wasn't a lack of time; rather, the field cleared them away with each voyage—those deposits attempting to adhere to the hull were decomposed the instant they reached the field's edge.
Galos Space Port—berths, warehouses, office buildings, servant fleets—everything is operational. A newly erected core building stands.
The Star Relay Station. A hexagonal tower extends upwards from the top of the administration building, piercing the spaceport's dome and reaching into the void. The six-pointed star psionic shield array in the middle of the tower gleams with a dull metallic sheen under the cold white light, while the psionic focusing antenna array at the top remains unlit. The core of the relay station—the adamantite-cast psionic focusing base and silicon-based core—is already in place.
The choir's quarters are ready. The relay station is divided into two functional areas: the lower level has a hexagram protective array and psionic focusing bases, while the upper level has the choir's living and working areas. The living area has an independent life support system and shielded compartments, and the working area has seven psionic focusing bases—one for the lead singer, five for the assistant singers, and one as a backup.
Enp stood in the maintenance corridor at the top of the tower, facing a row of Thinker terminal interface panels. His personal terminal was already connected to the mainframe's scheduling network. He swiped a few times on the data panel, brought up the relay station's self-test protocol, and confirmed each item.
Energy distribution is normal. The psionic protection array coverage meets the requirements. The runes of the hexagram protection array light up one by one in the inner lining of the bulkhead. Dark golden light patterns climb from the bottom to the top along the six faces of the hexagonal tower, and then slowly fade away—self-test passed.
The hexagram protective array is the core defensive structure of the relay station. Composed of complex runes, it forms a psionic shield that isolates psionic fluctuations from the warp, protecting the internal Astrologers from the corrupting influence of warp whispers. Before the relay station can be operational, the array undergoes multiple self-tests and calibrations. Currently, it has only confirmed its functionality and is not yet truly activated.
Watching the lights of the spaceport spread out in the darkness below, the guide lights in the berth area, the indicator lights in the warehouse area, and the cold white light from the office building windows—all operated quietly under the control of the Thinker's mainframe. The hexagram protection array of the relay station had returned to standby mode after completing its self-check, and the dark golden light patterns on the tower gradually faded away.
Once the Black Pearl arrives, the choir will ascend the tower. A lead singer, five backup singers, and twelve support psionicists—protected by the hexagram array, they will amplify the strength and range of stellar communication in choir form. A choir of seven stellar speakers will be sufficient to cover Galos's signal to several surrounding sub-sectors. Not powerful enough, but adequate.
Enp emerged from the maintenance access and walked down the corridor to the shuttle berth. Only the servitors moved silently through the corridor. No one noticed him; no one knew the tower had just completed its first self-check. He didn't need to say "good job" to anyone, nor did he need to accept anyone's thanks. The tower would operate on its own; that was enough.
The shuttle carried him back to the Earth. The spaceport behind him gradually shrank in the darkness, and the tower of the Star Language Relay Station gleamed with a dim metallic luster under the starlight, its psionic antenna array silently pointing into the void.
Several days later, the Black Pearl bounced off the edge of the Galos system.
The starry sky outside the porthole had changed. The stars of Garros burned as a bright yellow sphere in the distance, and the transparent armor of the dome reflected sunlight from its orbit, shimmering in the darkness. The outline of the spaceport magnified in the field of vision, and the berths were illuminated by a dense array of guide lights.
Sierra reported the coordinates in the navigation module—calculating the route from Mandeville Point to the spaceport using the guidance of the starlight beam. Guided by the beam, the Black Pearl slowed down, and the five-kilometer-long steel behemoth slowly turned, approaching its designated berth.
Liu En emerged from the workshop and entered the bridge. Vera was already standing there, clutching a data tablet, her fingertips lightly tapping it, her light brown ponytail neatly tied back. She had changed into a clean, dark red, Tier 3 trainee technical priest robe, the hood pulled down. Seeing Liu En enter, she turned her head, a slight smile playing on her lips.
"Finally here," she said. It wasn't a complaint, but the kind of relief that comes from finally being able to breathe after holding it in for so long.
Liu En stood by the porthole, watching the lights of the spaceport spread out in the darkness. The guide lights in the berth area formed a continuous strip of light, and the servitors lined up at the jet bridge entrance, with support servitors pushing transport platforms. The windows of the office building shone with cool white light, and the administrative servitors were busy at their workstations. The tower of the Star Language Relay Station was faintly visible under the starlight.
"Your Moon-class is over there." Liu En raised his chin, pointing to a patch of airspace outside the spaceport. There was nothing there, but Vera knew what he meant—the unnamed cruiser was quietly hovering in Garros's orbit, waiting for its captain.
Vera's lips curled up slightly, but she didn't say anything.
A moment of silence fell over the bridge. Marcus checked the arrival data on the tactical console, Phyllis flipped through the supply list at the logistics control panel, and Kara stood at the bridge entrance, arms crossed, staring expressionlessly at the spaceport outside the porthole. Veterans of the garrison changed shifts in the corridor, while new recruits peered out of the portholes, some letting out a soft gasp of surprise.
"Family members will disembark first," Liu En said. "They'll be in batches, according to the previously assigned cabin order. The choir will disembark in the second batch and will be directly accommodated at the Star Language Relay Station. Phyllis, is the ground reception ready?"
Phyllis didn't even look up, her fingers dancing across the data panel: "The dome-shaped resettlement area is ready. Medical operatives are on standby at all exits. Twenty windows at the registration office are open. The first batch of families will have their identities recorded and housing allocated within two hours of landing. The relay station has been cleaned by service operatives, and the choir is ready to move in at any time."
Liu En nodded. He turned around and glanced at the people bustling about on the bridge—Marcus, Phyllis, Kara, Vera, and the communications officer and duty officers. Every face looked tired but calm under the cold white light.
Garros has arrived. Nearly two hundred thousand families will begin new lives here. A choir will light up the Star Relay Station, reconnecting this forgotten planet with the Empire.
Liu En stood up and walked out of the bridge. The corridor lights shone with a cold white light in daytime mode, casting a long shadow on the terracotta floor. Outside the porthole, the dome of Garros reflected the dim sunlight against the starry sky, like a translucent eggshell enveloping the growing city within.