vncnus Chapter 19 The Black Pearl
Chapter 19 The Black Pearl
When Liu En woke up in the commander's seat, the power armor's environmental control system was still humming softly.
He couldn't remember when he fell asleep—perhaps after checking the core commands of the last batch of servants, or perhaps after testing the subspace engine auxiliary circuit. The bridge lights were dimmed to their lowest setting, the screens of the Thinker array glowed with a dim, standby light, and the servants silently operated at their respective posts. He had only taken this many with him when he set out from Lucis, but once the hull was completed, he would need more.
He glanced at the timer on his wrist; he had slept for nearly twelve hours. The fatigue in his consciousness had subsided considerably, but the deep, dull ache remained—months of shaping had left their mark on him, like muscle memory left by long-term heavy physical labor.
Now is not the time to rest. The ship is built, but it's dead. He needs to bring it to life.
The most basic requirement is the machine servant.
The Black Pearl's level of automation far exceeded the Imperial Navy's standards, but even at a minimum, it required several hundred servitors to operate the engine room, monitor sensors, and maintain weapon systems. Liu En had reserved deployment positions for the servitors when designing the hull, but the servitors themselves had not yet been built.
He entered the public workshop—a huge space occupying an entire deck midway between the ship's sections, an area he had specifically reserved for mass production. The nearly 1,000 square meters of space felt uncomfortably empty; the worktables were neatly arranged, and only a few rows of lighting panels were illuminated.
Standing in the center of the workshop, the field unfolded, reaching out to his consciousness. Creating each machine servant required constructing an organic matrix, mechanical skeleton, neural interface, and ceramic shell at the atomic level, along with writing basic behavioral instructions. With his current abilities, creating ten at once was already his limit—not because he lacked atoms, but because his consciousness could only process a limited number of threads simultaneously.
The first ten machines took shape on the workshop floor. Atoms condensed, skeletons emerged, muscle fibers grew layer by layer, and a shell covered the body. The optical lenses were activated in the final step, emitting a dark red light. He checked the core commands of each machine and, after confirming that everything was correct, issued the command: "Engine room, stand by." The ten machine servants stood up, their footsteps in unison, and walked towards the hatch.
The second batch, the third batch, the fourth batch. He forced himself to rest for a few minutes after each batch, not letting the mental fatigue accumulate to the point of collapse. Even so, after shaping several batches in succession, that familiar dull pain still welled up from deep within. He stopped, sat on the floor for a while, closed his eyes, and waited for the dull pain to subside.
In one day, he completed nearly two hundred bodies.
The process continued the next day. By evening, all 500 general-purpose servitors were in place: 120 in the engine room, 40 in the bridge, 60 in weapons control, 30 in sensor monitoring, 100 in deck maintenance, 80 in cargo handling, and the remaining 70 on standby.
However, servants can only perform preset tasks. In case of emergencies, higher-level combat units are needed.
On the third day, Liu En began to develop intelligent control mechs.
The complexity of the intelligent mechs far surpasses that of ordinary mechs—their built-in combat protocols, autonomous threat identification, and multi-weapon coordination algorithms all require every line of code to be written into their cognitive core during the shaping process. However, after practicing with five hundred mechs, his thread processing capabilities have improved significantly compared to the previous two days. Five mechs at a time, taking approximately one hour.
The first batch of five was completed in the morning. After a half-hour break, the second batch of five was completed in the afternoon. By evening, all ten intelligent control mechs were completed.
They don't speak, they don't tire, they only fight. Each one is a head taller than a regular servant, with a thick frame, heavy armor, rotary laser cannons on both arms, and missile pods on their backs. They line up on both sides of the bridge entrance, their optical lenses glowing with an orange alert light.
Three days. Five hundred mech servants and ten intelligent mechs. The Black Pearl was finally ready to move.
Over the next two weeks, Liu Enhua spent time getting familiar with the ship.
Three plasma reactors ignited, their deep hum echoing throughout every compartment along the ship's structure. The energy network was stable. The main thrusters preheated, their nozzles glowing a dark red at the stern. The Void Shield generators were on standby, and the coils of the energy focusing array began charging. The subspace engines completed their cold start, and the auxiliary cores were functioning normally.
He sat on the bridge for three days and three nights, testing every system over and over again. Five hundred machine servants performed their respective duties, transmitting data back to the Thinker array on the bridge. The data interface on the back of his head was connected to the entire ship's neural network, processing hundreds of data streams simultaneously.
everything is normal.
On the third day, he steered the Black Pearl out of the shadow of the hidden asteroid.
The five-kilometer-long hull slowly turned in space, its attitude control thrusters spewing out a weak stream of ions, aligning its bow with Lucis's direction. Before setting sail, he spent a final moment finishing touches on the exterior—not modifications, but disguises. An atomic-level aging process: a uniform layer of micro-meteorite impact craters was created on the armor plates, their density and depth simulating decades of space exposure; the paint faded and peeled at the edges, revealing the underlying gray-black primer; the gold ram at the bow was polished clean, covered with an oxide film, looking as if it had endured the wear and tear of numerous interstellar voyages; the double-headed eagle insignia on the sides was also deliberately aged, with several patches of gold paint peeling away to reveal the underlying ceramic steel. From the outside, it was just a secondhand Gothic-class cruiser that had served for decades, in acceptable condition, and utterly unremarkable. But the interior was entirely different. Reactor, engine, void shield, weapon system, armor structure—all core components are brand new, integrally molded, with performance parameters optimized using both Marcus data and Imperial standard blueprints, far exceeding the factory-produced levels of similar ships. The exterior is for port officials and customs; the interior is what ensures its survival.
The journey will take several weeks. This time cannot be wasted.
He used the public workshop as a temporary warehouse. He needed start-up capital—berthing fees, supply costs, and salaries for potential future hires—all of which required money. And his Throne Coins in the Lucis account were almost gone.
Fortunately, he had the blueprint, the atom, and the time for the entire voyage. It was only known to the outside world that he went to the abandoned shipyard to pick up the ship, and it was reasonable that he also took a look around those millennia-old wrecked ships.
He stood in the center of the workshop, the space unfolding before him. Atoms condensed, and one after another, "space debris" took shape in his hands.
The gearbox has an aged finish on the gear teeth. The bearings show uneven wear on the balls. Valves, pipe fittings, and cable reels—each piece is deliberately designed to show signs of long-term exposure to the space environment: micro-craters from micrometeorite impacts, paint fading from cosmic rays, and fine cracks from vacuum drying. The energy regulator, fuel pump assembly, and data crystal have rusted outer shells but intact internal components.
During the weeks-long voyage, the cargo stacks in the warehouse reached waist-high from the ground. There were hundreds of boxes of various sizes; if sold entirely, they could fetch at least tens of thousands of Throne Coins.
On the bridge's sensor screens, the lights of the inner perimeter of Lucis were already visible in the distance. The intense light of the artificial sun danced in the darkness, and the signals from the dock, space station, and cargo shuttle gradually intensified.
Liu En reduced the Black Pearl's speed to a minimum and activated the standard civilian response frequency.
He knew what was going to happen next—having spent three years in Lucis, he had witnessed countless merchant ships and cargo ships entering the port. Without him needing to make any contact, the spaceport's automated inspection system would periodically send inquiry signals to all ships entering the inner perimeter. As long as his transponder was on, the miniature device in his keel would automatically reflect the identification code, while simultaneously broadcasting the ship's name, type, owner, place of construction, and—belonging to the Fifth Field Fleet of the Lucis Casting World, as an auxiliary vessel.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, a brief burst of pulse noise came through the communication channel—it was the port's automatic interrogation signal, encrypted and highly directional. Liu En didn't do anything. He just had to wait.
Three seconds later, a human voice came through the communication channel.
"Black Pearl, belonging to Third-Order Apprentice Technical Priest Cohen Severus. Welcome to Lucis Spaceport." A male voice, flat and with the characteristic rigidity of the Mechanicus, said, "Please reduce to standard arrival speed and keep your transponder on. You have been assigned berth Dock-12. Please follow the directional signs to dock. Repeat: Dock-12."
Liu En glanced at the navigation screen; a string of blue coordinates and suggested routes had been pushed to him. He reduced the Black Pearl's speed to a minimum and slowly turned according to the guidance route.
Five hundred auxiliary machines silently operated at their respective posts, while ten intelligent control mechs lined up on either side of the bridge entrance, their optical lenses glowing with a dark red light of readiness. The Black Pearl's hull traced a gentle arc through the starry sky as it headed towards the spaceport.
The outline of the dock gradually grew larger in the field of vision. Huge metal frames, dense pipes and supports, and shuttle cars gliding silently on the tracks. Dock-12 is located on the east side of the port area and is a berth specifically for medium-sized ships, but the Black Pearl's nearly five-kilometer length almost filled the entire berth space.
Blue guide lights illuminated sequentially along the edge of the dock. Liu En manually controlled the attitude thrusters, slowly guiding the ship toward the berth. The docking support extended and engaged with the Black Pearl's side interface, producing a dull metallic clanging sound that traveled through the hull to the bridge.
It's stopped.
He stepped off the bridge, crossed the corridor, and entered space once more through the hangar's airlock—this time, beneath his feet was the metal platform of the Lucis Spaceport. The magnetic boots of his power armor automatically activated, firmly attaching themselves to the platform.
Looking back, the Black Pearl lay there silently. Its nearly five-kilometer-long hull occupied most of the berth, the gilded ram at the bow reflecting a cold light under the lamps, but a closer look revealed a layer of worn oxide film on its surface—a deliberate attempt to age it. The double-headed eagle insignia on the side of the hull gleamed dull under the spotlights, its gold paint peeling away in several places to reveal the underlying ceramic steel. From its appearance, no one would doubt that this was a second-hand warship that had served for many years.
Port staff were already busy at the edge of the berth—connecting energy pipelines, checking the hull's airtightness, and logging data. A man in a dark blue port authority uniform walked over, looked up at the massive hull, and then at Liu En. His gaze lingered for a moment on the third-tier trainee technical priest badge on Liu En's chest—the gear and skull emblem reflecting a cold light under the lamplight.
"Cohen Severo?" he asked.
"Yes."
"This is your berth confirmation." He handed over a data panel. "Berth fees are calculated daily, starting today. If you need supplies or repair services, go to Wing B of the Port Authority. Also—" He paused, pointing to the double-headed eagle insignia on the Black Pearl's hull, "your ship belongs to the Fifth Field Fleet. The commissioning procedures are handled by the Temple, not our Port Authority. Take some time to go to the Fair Maxim Casting Temple and get the paperwork done."
Liu En took the data board and signed his name on it. The man nodded, turned, and left.
He stood at the edge of the berth, gazing at the Black Pearl. Under the spotlights of the dock, the armor plates he had painstakingly constructed, layer upon layer, gleamed with a cold gray light. The welding marks on the hull, the arrangement of the rivets, even the seams between the armor plates—everything was made to the specifications of an Imperial standard cruiser, identical, without a single flaw. Even the artificial wear and fading were simulated with atomic-level precision.
No one knows what it went through. No one knows that the transponder embedded in the middle of its keel—and that atomically precise identification code—was stacked up atom by atom in the void. No one knows how long it took its creator to painstakingly build up five kilometers of steel from nothingness in this most remote corner of the universe.
In the Imperial Maritime Database and the Port Authority's automated inspection system, it was merely a newly registered, clean-lined ship. Name: Black Pearl. Type: Gothic-class cruiser. Construction location: Lucis Foundry World, Fair Maxim Shipyard, Second Dry Dock. Owner: Cohen Severus, Tier 3 Apprentice Technical Priest, affiliated with Lucis Foundry World.
Automatic verification passed. Berth allocation completed. Confirmation slip signed.
everything is normal.
Liu En put the data pad into the inner pocket of his crimson robe and turned to walk towards the port center. The gear and skull emblem on the chest of his robe flashed under the light; the sunken eye sockets of the half-skull and the half-mechanical pupils reflected the white light of the spotlight.