dmims Chapter 71 The Mess at Forge No. 7
Chapter 71 The Mess at Forge No. 7
Chapter 71 The Mess at Forge No. 7 (Seeking First Subscription!)
Zeman's current whereabouts are unknown.
According to the fragmented information pieced together by the intelligence department, he "accidentally" got separated from the main force during the retreat, taking with him the remaining few Leman Rus vehicles that were still operational and all the heavy weapons and ammunition.
He didn't even return to Shangchao to report back.
That person is very shrewd.
After such a huge defeat, squandering the group's entire fortune, going back means certain death.
That old bastard Thor will definitely push him out as a scapegoat. Even if he isn't publicly executed, he'll be sent to the servant modification workshop, have his brain ripped out, and have a chip installed to make him a doorman.
So Zeman simply found a lawless area in the Middle Nest, planted his flag, and became a local tyrant.
With the little heavy firepower he still had, he actually managed to gain a foothold in the chaotic place of Zhongchao.
This old soldier is living a very comfortable life now.
As for the Helios Group?
Fuck it!
Helios headquarters, top-floor conference room.
The atmosphere is even worse than it was a few days ago.
If before everyone was just arguing about interests, now they're tearing each other apart over who should take the blame: "It's all the intelligence department's fault! Why didn't anyone tell me the base had anti-aircraft missiles?!"
"Bullshit! That's clearly an unidentified war drone! Can't your security department even tell the difference between a drone and a missile?!"
"The finance department is also responsible! If you had approved the budget for that bunker buster bomb earlier—"
"Enough!!"
Saul suddenly stood up and slammed his scepter on the table, shattering the expensive crystal glass.
The old man's face turned a deep purplish-red, and his chest heaved violently.
He glanced around at the bunch of good-for-nothings, and finally fixed his gaze on Jessia, who was sitting on his left.
Jessia lowered her head and remained silent.
"Smack—!!!"
A crisp slap rang out, instantly silencing the entire conference room.
Thor slapped her with all his might, drawing blood from the corner of Jessia's mouth.
Jessia was knocked to the side, her golden hair falling down and covering half of her face.
She neither resisted nor offered any explanation.
Because it's useless.
This slap shattered the last vestiges of Helios Group's hypocritical dignity and woke up everyone still immersed in their fantasies.
The situation is completely rotten.
Helios is now in a predicament where he is surrounded by enemies, with himself caught in the middle, seemingly oblivious to his own fate.
In the Ninth District, the Starship's defense system has been completely taken over by the Machine Soul; anyone who dares to approach will be sliced into sashimi by lasers.
Meanwhile, the bottom nest is an even bigger bottomless pit. The mysterious force that appeared out of nowhere not only has anti-aircraft firepower that can swat Valkyrie like a mosquito, but also highly mobile heavy artillery that fires horizontally, as well as a private army whose individual soldiers are armed to an absurd degree.
No way, what kind soul would put a missile inside a crossbow?
Although the Helios Group still has a lot of resources, they can't do anything now.
From this point on, a very dangerous trend began to spread in the aristocratic circles of Shangchao.
They forcibly fled.
-
As mentioned before, Forge 7 is located on the edge of the Misty Starfield, where the subspace route was already unstable, and now it has become extremely dangerous due to the impending Great Rift.
Ships without a warp drive and a Geller field are simply going to their deaths; they'll be devoured by demons until nothing is left.
Therefore, some people turned their attention to another option.
Ships moored within the mooring system.
An intra-system ship is a spaceship that only travels within the Heng system and uses a conventional plasma engine.
The most distinctive feature of this type of ship is its slowness, its extreme slowness.
It's so slow it's despairing.
For example, if this kind of ship were to fly from Forge VII to the nearest inhabited star system, it would probably take about two hundred years.
What does this mean?
It means that once you go up there, you can forget about coming down for the rest of your life.
You will be born, grow old, get sick, and die inside that iron box, and your son, grandson, and great-grandson will also be born, grow old, get sick, and die inside it.
When the spaceship finally reaches its destination, if it doesn't encounter meteorites, pirates, or system malfunctions along the way, the people disembarking from the ship may already be your fourth-generation descendants.
Even so, tickets for these ships are still being sold at exorbitant prices.
Some nobles, utterly terrified, actually began selling their possessions to fight for this desperate path to survival.
They would rather rot to death in this iron box than stay in Casting Furnace No. 7 and wait to die.
They will cling to any straw, even a rotten one, and never let go.
However, another group of people is even more interesting.
This also applies to the vast majority of people in the upper nest.
These people are interesting. Although they keep saying that it's all over, their actions betray them and they stay behind.
Why?
Because of wishful thinking.
Although it was clear from the interstellar communication channels that the war was raging, it hadn't yet reached the spire of Upper Nest.
Tens of thousands more people died in the bottom nest, but to them it was just a number.
Helios lost tens of billions again, which was just a topic of conversation for them.
As long as they haven't heard the sound of gunfire, they feel they can still get by.
Maybe they won't attack again?
Who knows, maybe tomorrow the Imperial Navy's main fleet will suddenly arrive and wipe out all those heretics and aliens?
With this in mind, Shangchao's silver parties are being held more frequently than before.
Since we don't know if we'll die tomorrow, let's enjoy ourselves to the fullest today.
An atmosphere reminiscent of an apocalyptic carnival enveloped the entire spire, the air thick with the scents of alcohol, perfume, and decadence.
Jessia had already realized this.
But she hasn't been to the company for five days.
She hid in her mansion on the middle floor of the spire, cutting off all external communications.
She turned off all the lights except for the essential life support systems.
In the darkness, Jessia sat in front of the French windows, holding a half-empty bottle of Amasec brandy.
Her hair was a mess, and she looked extremely颓废 (颓废 is a difficult word to translate directly, but it implies a state of being listless, dispirited, or decadent).
These past few days, she has been thinking about a question.
What's wrong with this world?
Furnace No. 7 is a typical example of a second-rate industrial world, neither good nor bad.
Why?
Why would such a monster emerge from that garbage dump at the bottom of the nest?
That's something that this planet couldn't possibly create, or even something that this era could possibly create!
As a high-ranking executive in Helios, Jesia has been exposed to many cutting-edge technologies and has seen a lot of the world.
But Andy's technical skills were completely beyond her comprehension.
While the black box was still in her hands and before it went out of control, she was willing to sacrifice thousands of lives in order to circumvent the security protocols and produce a few more tons of high-purity alloy, and even felt that this was already a remarkable achievement.
She wrote countless reports to claim credit for this, genuinely believing that she had mastered the ancient core technology fragments and was the only knowledgeable person in the group who understood technology.
The results of it?
Look at what that guy at the bottom of the nest has produced.
Hypersonic warfare drones, highly mobile heavy artillery, and complete systems of individual soldier exoskeletons!
If these things also came from the same machine, then all her previous achievements are simply a joke.
While she was still basking in the glory of having forged high-quality steel, others had already thoroughly humiliated her intelligence and vision.
If we had to pinpoint what truly terrified and powerless Jessie, it was the overwhelming technological superiority Andy brought, a superiority that transcended countless eras.
Her cunning, methods, and family influence, which she was so proud of, seemed to have no value whatsoever in the face of such absolute power.
"call----"
Jessia exhaled a breath of alcohol, her gaze falling on the coffee table.
There was a magnetic card there.
[Premium Departure Permit]
This is what she got from that idiot administrator by using her body.
Three days later, the Helios Group's in-system mining ship, the "Grey Hope," will return from the outer asteroid belt and dock at the geosynchronous space station for resupply. This is the closest ship to it.
If you're going to leave, this is your last chance.
But----
Are you really leaving?
Sit in that iron coffin that is destined to drift for hundreds of years?
Give up everything here, give up her unfulfilled ambitions, give up her honor as a member of the Hell family?
To become an exile, slowly rotting in that dark and cold universe?
Jessia didn't know.
Fear of the unknown, resentment at losing power, and an instinctive resistance to death were battling fiercely in her mind.
Just then.
"Buzzing"
The communicator, which had been tossed into the corner of the sofa, suddenly vibrated, displaying a name: Perrin, the administrator.
Jessia looked at that name, a hint of disgust flashing in her eyes.
She could roughly guess what this guy wanted to say.
It's nothing more than some party going on somewhere, or some new toy arriving, and I'm asking her if she wants to go and have some fun.
These people are hopeless.
Jessia didn't answer; instead, she reached out and swept the communicator to the ground.
Then, she picked up the magnetic card and clutched it tightly in her hand.
She needs to make a decision, a decision that might make her regret it for the rest of her life, but might also allow her to live.