Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 24 Sailing

The hangar of the Black Pearl was bustling with activity from morning till night. Phyllis, along with several logistics personnel, carried out crates of equipment from the warehouse and neatly stacked them in several rows on the hangar floor. The terracotta weapon crates had a cold gray sheen, and the lids were imprinted with the Imperial double-headed eagle emblem and the gear and skull of the Mechanical Order.

Lieutenant Kara stood in the center of the hangar, arms crossed, looking at the dozens of crates. The eyes of several veterans behind her lit up.

"Open it," she said to the veterans behind her.

The moment the lid was lifted, a series of gasps filled the hangar.

In the first row of crates, power armor was neatly stacked. Not the old, semi-enclosed type the veterans used to wear, but the "Solvin" type fully enclosed power armor issued only to the elite Imperial Star Force units. The entire body was covered by terracotta composite armor plates, with fiber bundles and muscle layers at the joints, lined with temperature control and vital signs monitoring systems. The helmet visor was a single piece of ballistic crystal, with a built-in holographic display and tactical network module. Each suit looked brand new, with a dark red paint job, and the Black Pearl's ship registration number was already etched on the shoulder armor.

"By the God Emperor..." An old soldier stepped forward and reached out to touch the breastplate of the power armor.

The second row of boxes contained explosive rifles. Each one was polished to a gleaming shine, with a robust frame and a full, rounded magazine. The .75 caliber rocket-propelled ammunition reflected a brass-like sheen under the light. Neatly stacked spare magazines stood alongside.

The third row of boxes was the smallest, but what it contained was the most alarming. Plasma pistols, each individually secured in foam padding, with yellow warning labels affixed to the guns: "Danger: High Temperature. Please read the manual before use."

Lieutenant Kara picked up a plasma pistol, weighed it in her hand, and then carefully put it back. She turned to look at Liu En, who was standing on the observation platform above the hangar, and said only one sentence: "Captain, this..."

Liu En didn't speak, only nodded. Phyllis stood to the side, holding a data board, doing the final inventory and registration. Her voice rang out in the hangar, calm and professional: "Power armor, 500 sets. Bomb guns, 500. Bomb magazines, 12 per soldier, totaling 6,000. Plasma pistols, 500. Pistol magazines, 4 per soldier, totaling 2,000. All the above supplies have been inventoried and are ready for distribution."

Lieutenant Kara took a deep breath and turned to face the five hundred veterans lined up. "Line up. Collect your equipment according to your numbers. Each person will receive a power armor set, a bomb gun, a plasma pistol, and standard ammunition. After receiving your equipment, return to your respective compartments to familiarize yourselves with the controls. I want to see you standing here in your power armor at this time tomorrow."

Five hundred people responded in unison.

For the next two days, the corridors of the Black Pearl were filled with veterans in their new power armor. A training area was temporarily set up in the hangar, where several senior sergeants were teaching younger soldiers how to quickly put on and take off their power armor, how to use the communication modules inside the armor, and how to manually release the joint locks in an emergency.

Lieutenant Kara, wearing her power armor and helmet tucked under her arm, patrolled the training area. She walked up to a young soldier adjusting his shoulder armor and patted it. "How does it feel?"

"Lieutenant, this thing... is ten times better than any protective gear I've ever worn before."

"It's not for your comfort, it's for your survival." Lieutenant Kara withdrew her hand. "Everyone, you must master the basic operation of your power armor by today. Tomorrow we'll be entering the warp. Anyone who goes into battle and still can't disengage the safety will be thrown out of the airlock by me personally."

No one laughed.

The moment of departure has finally arrived.

935.M41, spring is drawing to a close for Phil Maxim. At the spaceport berth, the Black Pearl's engines are preheated, the low-frequency hum of the reactors echoing through every compartment. The shore-based supply lines have been disconnected, and the docking stations have been retracted.

On the bridge, everyone was in their respective positions.

Marcus sat in the tactical officer's seat, the holographic projection screen in front of him displaying the departure route. Phyllis stood behind the logistics control panel. Lieutenant Kara, clad in full power armor, stood at the bridge entrance, behind two equally heavily armed veterans.

Sera sat in the navigator's seat. Her seat was a size larger than the others, surrounded by meditators and psionic shields. Her long, silver-white hair was braided at the back of her head, and her light-colored eyes were fixed on the data stream on the navigation screen.

Hera Voss, the Astrologer, wasn't on the bridge. Her post was in the communications bay—the double-shielded compartment next to the navigation bay. Liu En had visited her once before leaving; she was sitting in front of the old Astrologer receiver array, "watching" the waveforms on the instruments with her nearly blind eyes. "Call me when we're in warp," she said. "There's nothing to do now."

Liu En sat in the commander's seat, his voice carrying throughout every corner of the ship via the internal communication system.

"Black Pearl, all departments, final status confirmation."

On the bridge's communication channel, replies from various departments came in turn.

"Engine room, all systems normal."

"Weapon systems, stand by."

"Void Shield, in standby mode, fully charged."

"Navigation, route entered, Mandeville point coordinates confirmed."

"Logistics and supplies list has been confirmed, no issues found."

"Star Communication, on standby." Hera's hoarse voice came through the communication channel, brief and calm.

Liu En took a deep breath. "Port authorities, the Black Pearl requests permission to depart."

The spaceport controller's voice came through the communication channel: "Black Pearl, departure clearance confirmed. Please proceed along the marked course away from the berth. Best wishes for a safe journey."

The docking supports loosened, and the Black Pearl's hull slowly moved backward under the fine-tuning of the attitude thrusters, detaching from the Dock-12 berth. Then the main thrusters ignited, the hull shuddered slightly, and the five-kilometer-long steel behemoth began to glide forward, passing through the spaceport's exit and sailing into the boundless starry sky.

No one spoke on the bridge. Everyone looked out the portholes—the lights of the Lucis Spaceport receded into the distance behind them, the confinement ring of the artificial sun shrank into a tiny halo, and the starlight dimmed in the darkness.

One day later, the Black Pearl arrived at Mandeville.

Mandeville Point is a gravitationally balanced region at the edge of the galaxy, where the boundary between the physical universe and subspace becomes blurred. The spaceship must activate its subspace engines here, tearing through the veil between reality and illusion to enter that chaotic ocean.

Sera's voice rang out in the bridge, calm and clear. "Mandeville point reached. Warp engine activation countdown: sixty seconds. All personnel, return to designated positions and fasten your seatbelts."

The atmosphere on the bridge suddenly became tense. Several young logistics personnel were pale-faced, their hands gripping the armrests of their seats tightly. Cassius stared expressionlessly at the instrument panel in front of him, but the knuckles of his fingers gripping the data pad were white.

Liu En sat motionless in the commander's seat. His field of vision had quietly expanded, a spherical perception with a ten-meter radius covering most of the bridge. He could feel everyone's heartbeat—Marcus's steady, Phyllis's slightly faster, and Sera's very stable.

Thirty seconds.

The Black Pearl's hull began to vibrate. It wasn't the smooth vibration of the main thrusters, but a deeper tremor that surged from within the hull. The subspace engines were increasing in power, and the energy coils were emitting an increasingly loud hum.

"Fifteen seconds."

Sera's third eye—the organ usually hidden by a metal disc on her forehead—began to glow. Pale purple light seeped from the disc's gaps, illuminating her face. Her voice remained unchanged, but everyone on the bridge could feel an invisible pressure gathering in the air.

"Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One. Start."

All ordinary portholes on the Black Pearl were covered by armored panels during subspace navigation, with only the navigator's compartment and the captain's private workshop retaining specially treated optical observation windows.

Everything outside the ship had changed. The normal starry sky had vanished, replaced by a chaotic, flowing expanse of color. Purple, red, and orange intertwined, surging, swirling, tearing, and reforming.

Several logistics personnel entering the warp for the first time simultaneously let out suppressed gasps. A young female warehouse manager covered her ears, but the sounds didn't enter through her ears—they appeared directly in her head. Her face turned deathly pale, and her body began to tremble.

On the other side, a young veteran suddenly bent over, his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. His power armor visor automatically activated auxiliary oxygen supply, but his breathing remained rapid. His eyes were fixed on the chaotic colors outside the porthole, his pupils contracting violently.

"Medical team, outside the bridge, someone is experiencing subspace discomfort," Phyllis's voice rang out in the communication channel.

Dr. Liz arrived quickly. She was the medical director of the Black Pearl, in her early forties, with short hair and sharp eyes. She had served in the medical order of the Lucis Temple for eighteen years, and her resume included the line: "Experienced in providing medical support during warp space travel."

Liz walked up to the young support staff member, knelt down, placed one hand on her shoulder, and used the other to lift her eyelids and examine her pupils. "Look at me. What's your name?"

"Ve-Veera".

"Vera, what you're seeing right now isn't real. Your brain is processing information it doesn't understand. But you're safe. The ship's hull and the void shield will keep those things out. You only need to do one thing—breathe."

She demonstrated a rhythm: inhale for four seconds, hold for two seconds, exhale for six seconds. Vera followed her. Her face went from deathly pale to ashen, and her trembling body gradually calmed down.

Liz turned to the veteran soldier, glanced at him, and made her judgment. "The power armor's oxygenation system is fine; your sympathetic nervous system is overactive. Disable the external visual input on your visor and switch to holographic navigation mode." Her hand had already pressed a few buttons on the control panel on the soldier's arm. The helmet visor changed from transparent to dark, and the chaotic colors outside the porthole were filtered into a steady stream of blue data. The soldier's breathing quickly calmed down.

Liz stood up and looked around the bridge. "Is anyone else feeling unwell? Speak now. Don't push yourself."

No one spoke. Liz scanned the area again, making sure everyone was within range, then walked to Sera's navigation station and checked on the navigator. Sera's third eye was still glowing a pale purple, but her breathing was steady and her expression focused. Liz nodded and stepped aside.

Liu En sat in the commander's seat, taking in the entire scene. "Dr. Liss."

"captain?"

"Well done. From today onwards, you are the ship's medical officer for the entire subspace voyage. If any passenger or crew member experiences a stress reaction, you do not need to ask for permission; you can handle it directly."

Liz nodded slightly. "Understood."

Sera's voice came through the navigation station, still as calm as ever: "Subspace travel status stable. Estimated arrival time in the Sintira system is several weeks. Current route recorded, speed at standard. Everyone may resume normal activities, but those on their first voyage are advised to minimize looking directly out the window."

The atmosphere on the bridge gradually relaxed. Several logistics personnel leaned back in their chairs and let out a long sigh. Cassius reactivated the external vision on his mask, but turned down the display brightness considerably, making the chaotic colors outside the porthole appear blurry and distant.

Liu En leaned back in his commander's seat, his right hand resting on the armrest. His field of vision continued to expand, every atom within ten meters quietly operating in his perception. Outside the porthole, chaotic colors surged silently.

Hera Worth's voice came through the communication channel again, hoarse but calm: "The interstellar communication array is functioning normally. The subspace communication environment is stable. If there are broadcasts, I can receive them."

Liu En replied, "Received. Thanks for your hard work."

The communication channel fell silent.

The Black Pearl moved steadily forward amidst the endless colors of subspace, the force field of the void shield surrounding the ship projecting a quiet energy fluctuation within the perception field. Liu En closed his eyes, and the five-kilometer-long hull, every keel, every piece of armor, and every section of pipeline stretched out in his perception.