RNP Chapter 48 Approaching
Chapter 48 Approaching
The sixth week of subspace. The Black Pearl glides smoothly through the chaotic sea, its porthole armored panels tightly closed, leaving only the faint glow of instrument dials and indicator lights in the bridge.
Liu En still spends a lot of time in his private workshop. The first phase of Enpu's project is nearing completion—the computing hub, energy center, and thirteen production lines are all in place, and the storage cluster is overflowing with raw materials. The first batch of engineering machines is about to roll off the production line.
The next step is the dome. A two-hundred-kilometer-diameter arched dome will cover the entire city, its space beneath unobstructed by any supporting pillars. It will be sustained solely by a self-supporting structure of adamantite framework and transparent armor plates, enveloping the city and providing a constant atmospheric temperature and air circulation system. According to the plan, the first dome will house two million immigrants. This is a massive undertaking. He hasn't had time to build giant furnaces and refining facilities underground, but he already has a vast atomic reserve in his warehouses for the basic materials needed for the dome—transparent armor plates, structural frames, and conventional supporting components. Ordinary ceramic steel, PVC steel, and structural profiles can be directly shaped using conventional atoms; Garros has no shortage of these. The materials are being shaped piece by piece and stacked on the plains surrounding the governor's mansion, stretching from the ground to the horizon.
The assembly nodes of the adamantite truss, the radiation-resistant interlayer of the transparent armor plate, the strategic locations doped with rare elements—these are where the all-powerful atom truly shines. Adamantite veins are impossible to find in the crust of Garros, and the Imperial supply chain will not be open to him; sourcing it from the warp is the only option.
He used the universal atom to shape a batch of refined gold node components and stacked them on top of the material pile. The gray-black metal gleamed coldly under the starlight, clearly distinguishing itself from the ordinary ceramic steel profiles below—one was there to fill the volume of the dome, and the other was there to support the framework of the dome.
After finishing these tasks, he switched his consciousness back to the Black Pearl, stood up, and walked out of the private workshop.
The mess hall was more crowded than usual. In the final days of the subspace voyage, the duty roster remained unchanged, but those on leave rarely returned to their cabins to sleep; most sat in the mess hall. Veterans chatted in small groups about their arrangements after arriving in Dulob Sand, while the new recruits listened quietly. Logistics personnel checked supply lists in a corner, and Commander Kara sat at the end of a long table, arms crossed, expressionless.
Liu En took a tray and sat down in the corner. He didn't say anything.
On the table next to him, a young logistics soldier flipped through a data board and read out the name of the galaxy in the coordinate annotation.
"Durob Sander. That name doesn't sound like it belongs to the Empire."
An old soldier across from him put down his fork. "It's the name of a foreign race."
"Titanium group?"
"I don't know. That's what the records say when the Imperial fleet hit that area hundreds of years ago. It might be Tau language, or a translation of some language from a wiped-out alien race. Anyway, it's not Gothic." The veteran paused, forking a piece of steak. "There are plenty of things like this on the Imperial star map. It doesn't matter what they call it; what's buried underground is what really matters."
The young logistics soldier nodded and didn't ask any more questions.
At another table, several new recruits were asking veteran Dulob Sand whether there was an atmosphere on the surface of the earth.
"Yes, it's thin. You can withstand it for a while without wearing full-body power armor. But you'd better wear it; the radiation from it can take half your life."
"Are there any living things on the ground?"
"I don't know. No one has been there for thousands of years, and even if there were any living people, they wouldn't be human."
The new recruits looked at each other in bewilderment. The veteran didn't explain further.
Commander Kara stood up from the end of the line, carrying an empty tray, and walked towards the recycling bin. She paused as she passed the recruits' table. "Don't think about those things while you're eating," she said softly, but the recruits lowered their heads and began to eat.
Liu En finished his steak and carried the empty plate to the recycling bin. He placed the plate on the conveyor belt without stopping and walked through the side passage. The corridor lights were still in daytime mode, casting a cold white light across the floor and ceiling. He passed the garrison regiment's training area, where several veterans were instructing new recruits on tactical coordination drills, repeating the movements over and over again. Regiment Commander Kara stood beside them, arms crossed, watching everyone on the training field with a blank expression.
Liu En returned to his private workshop, the cabin door closing behind him.
He leaned back in the chair in front of the workbench, his eyes closed. The field maintained a minimal level of spontaneous operation, his consciousness withdrawing from this body and flowing into the body far away in Garros, deducing the skeleton of the dome in another world.
The cabin was so quiet that only the white noise of the ventilation system could be heard. A servo skull floated in the corner, its optical lens silently pointing towards the center of the workshop, recording everything.
Servo skulls are quite common within the Imperial Mechanicus. They are human skulls—usually taken from the remains of loyalists or tech-priests—implanted with anti-gravity engines and various sensory devices, allowing them to levitate and move, performing surveillance, recording, or auxiliary tasks. In the Imperial context, contributing one's skull to be made into a servo skull is considered an honor, signifying unwavering loyalty in life and continued eligibility to serve the Emperor after death.
But Liu En disliked such things. The shape of a human skull, even covered in terracotta armor, even with the color of the bone no longer discernible—its shape remained. In the world he lived in before his transmigration, turning the remains of the dead into tools was an unacceptable desecration. In this universe, it was commonplace.
But after the assassination attempt at the port, he had to admit that this thing was indeed useful in some ways. He eventually sculpted one, without using a real skull. He never carried it with him, but let it float quietly in a corner of his private workshop, using an optical lens to record every detail of the workshop—who had come in, who had touched his workbench, what had been moved. This was the only space on the Black Pearl that was entirely his own; with it there, he didn't need to constantly bring his consciousness back to watch over it.
At this moment, the servo skull floated quietly in the corner, its optical lens flashing as it recorded the scene.
The field unfolded. A spherical field with a radius of over twenty meters extended outwards, penetrating the workshop's terracotta walls, the Black Pearl's armor layers, and touching the thin material boundary beyond the ship's hull. Universal atoms from the subspace surged into the sensing range like a tide. The decomposition command was issued. There was no sound, no light effect; only atoms were silently stripped, collected, and stored. The speed was extremely fast, several times faster than a few months ago; the field's "throughput" was now incomparable. The reserves of universal atoms in the warehouse continued to grow.
In the higher dimensions, the blueprint for the Garros underground industrial complex is slowly unfolding. The current thirteen production lines, producing thousands of machines daily, can't even meet the demands of the dome construction site. What he needs isn't just making do, but an industrial torrent of millions of machines daily. That would require dozens, even hundreds, of production lines, energy centers several times larger than the current ones, and hundreds of large underground spaces excavated from rock formations spanning thousands of kilometers. The parameters, plans, and optimization schemes on the blueprint are repeatedly rehearsed in his consciousness.
He wouldn't personally excavate every inch of rock. But the layout of every new production line, the location of every energy heart, and the route of every pipeline system had to be determined by him. The core cavity of the giant plasma reactor, the single-crystal processor array of the Thinker host, the high-temperature mold of the precision casting unit—all those core components were in his database, all at his fingertips.
Liu En closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into a higher dimension. The underground space of Garros unfolded in his mind—the computing hub, the energy core, thirteen production lines, and the numerous storage spaces scattered around them. The new coordinates of the underground space had been marked, and the blueprint for the second energy core was complete. The locations for the second batch of ten production lines had been reserved, awaiting excavation.
On the bridge, Sera's voice came through the communication channel. "Expected arrival at the ejection point in six hours. The gravitational environment of the system is stable, and the ejection window is within acceptable limits."
Marcus pressed the communication button. "Received."
Hera Worth's voice followed. "The interstellar communication array is functioning normally. The psionic background noise in the direction of Dulob Sand is at a low level; there are no abnormal signals."
Marcus glanced at the timer. "Roger. Continue listening."
Time continued to pass, and soon it was the final moment before the jump.
In the canteen, Marcus's announcement came over the loudspeaker: "Approaching Mandeville point. All personnel return to designated positions."
Lars put down his coffee cup. Carlos stood up. The recruits exchanged glances, while the veterans went to their posts. Commander Kara issued a series of concise commands into the garrison channel. The massive Black Pearl adjusted its attitude in the subspace, and the power curve of the Geller Field steadily climbed on the monitoring panel.
Marcus pressed the ship-wide broadcast button. "All departments, final subspace travel status confirmed. Bounce procedure to be initiated in ten seconds."
Sierra's finger hovered above the navigation panel. The Geller force field activated at full power, the subspace engine's auxiliary loop was cut off, and the ship's vibration frequency shifted to a lower, shorter tremor.
"Five, four, three, two, one."
The ship shuddered violently.
"Jump successful. Current location: eastern frontier of the Limits region, outer edge of Mandeville point. Geller force reading is decreasing. Confirming galactic coordinates."
Marcus pressed the communication button. "Confirm the coordinates of the Dulob Sander system."
"Coordinates locked. Six hours from normal sailing distance."
Liu En was now standing in front of the control panel on the bridge. The warp voyage was over. Next was a six-hour routine cruise, followed by Dulob Sand—that forgotten gray graveyard of the Empire, ruins, sealed-off low-grade mineral deposits, and remnants of ancient technology.
He pulled up Dulob Sand's navigation plan and began to check the list of supplies and personnel deployment for the landing operation item by item.
In the mess hall, Marcus's announcement came over the loudspeaker: "Arriving at Dulob Sand orbit after six hours of normal flight. All departments, prepare for action."
The cabin announcements were turned off. The mess hall fell silent for a moment.
Dulob Sander is coming.