Day 350 of the 987th year of the 41st millennium
Hive Alpha
Hive Spire
The atmosphere in the opulent Grand Stratos, constructed from rare woods and adorned with exquisite paintings and chandeliers made of rare jewels, was tense.
It was now permeated with the scent of expensive incense and the murmuring of gears from the Tech-Priests of Adeptus Mechanicus, who stood in rows around the room like iron statues. A holographic light from the center of the table cast a soft blue shadow on the faces of the powerful figures about to decide the fate of the stars.
Valen Korvax, dressed in sleek black, sat motionless in his position. His impeccably tailored, almost menacing, black uniform swept over the "circus" before him with a contemptuous expression hidden beneath his emotionless face.
"Lord Korvax... you are unusually quiet," said the cold, synthesized voice of Magos Juris, the representative from Mechanicus. From what Vann knew, this Magos was succeeding the previous Magos who died mysteriously. It was highly probable that it was an internal assassination, but he wasn't too concerned about it.
"While other lords are presenting their 'visions,' you sit motionless like a switched-off machine,"
Magos Juris continued. Valen merely raised an eyebrow at that statement. He didn't intend to comment much, at least not now.
"I've come to hear the facts, not to listen to fairy tales... Please continue with your visions. I don't want to interrupt the entertainment." He swept his gaze around the table where many nobles from various families were seated and conversing.
Lord Baron Hest of Hive Borders, a tall, thin man who maintained a clearly neutral demeanor, but his darting eyes indicated he was waiting to reap the benefits from the winner.
Baroness Vex, a haughty middle-aged woman, ruler of Hive Gocilix. She held her head high, her gaze sweeping over everyone in the room. Her expensive gown was adorned with rare alien furs worth enough to buy a Leman Russ tank.
Lord Gammos, a portly nobleman in jeweled attire, sat unrefined, munching on candied grapes. The ruler of the Hive Calusix reeked of alcohol, a sound that was sickening. He was there only to pressure the new governor to lower import taxes on entertainment.
Or even Lord Thalric, his rival… the diminutive, stout man trying to appear the most cunning in the room. He even had the audacity to attend the meeting today, his fingers laden with gold rings, laughing and nodding in agreement with the high clergy.
And many others, whose names he didn't know, were also in the meeting, each with their own distinct personality, some he liked, some he disliked.
"As a devout believer!" Thalric shouted, lightly tapping the table.
"I propose that the new governor increase the budget for the central temple." "May the Emperor's light protect us from the ravages of the recently concluded war!" Thalric proposed something that caused many to frown and burst into laughter at its foolishness.
Valen glanced at the numbers on his personal screen... Thalric's territory had seen another 15% drop in production this morning. The rebellion rate in that guy's Lower Hive was nearing a critical point, yet this idiot was suggesting building more temples. He didn't know if the Church had blown him in the head or brainwashed him.
"Thalric..." Valen interrupted with a cold, emotionless voice that silenced the entire room. "You know, don't you, that the 'Emperor's Light' won't help you solve your problems. And have you managed your own territory yet?" Valen asked, simultaneously revealing the truth to everyone, which was like rubbing the foot in Thalric's face.
"You faithless fool, Valen! You only care about gears and numbers!" Thalric's face flushed with shame and anger.
"I care about 'the truth'..." Valen replied, leaning back in his chair. "And this governor selection meeting is becoming a pipe dream. Whoever becomes governor is up to you, as long as that person doesn't ensure the planet's equipment export quota is met, otherwise we'll all be punished by the central government."
He adjusted his black sleeve. The ruthlessness of his actions made many nobles gasp, while others who were equally ruthless remained largely unfazed. Valen wasn't here to seize power. He was there to save face for his family and for the sole purpose of pretense. Besides, he didn't want a fool to be a leader.
At that moment, his gaze fell upon Lady Annes sitting in another corner. She continued to stare at him with a mysterious smile, a smile that made Valen feel that this tedious meeting might just be a facade for a more dangerous game.
Valen secretly sighed... His mind raced with thoughts of the reports he needed to reread and the permits he needed to approve. He didn't trust those officials at all. He understood the nature of the imperial bureaucracy.
For the most part, they were quite dedicated to their duties, but the imperial bureaucracy was incredibly inefficient, coupled with some nobles who sought illicit gain.
It was something he couldn't tolerate since he took office, leading him to intervene to improve things.
But suddenly, the atmosphere in the meeting room became increasingly tense as the debate shifted back to the "nomination" of the new governor. The holographic production graph, blood-red in several administrative districts, reflected on the cold metal table, seemingly exposing the failures of the nobles seated around it.
The production at Hive City, under each of the governing districts, as demonstrated by the conference participants, was very satisfactory. They were still able to produce weapons, armor, and other products according to their assigned quotas.
The Valen district, too, despite suffering heavy damage, was still able to manage its factories and district to produce weapons, armor, and other products according to quotas (by increasing the working hours of the workers in the Lower Hive from 12 hours to 20 hours).
Only a few had experienced such a drastic drop in production, and one of them was Thalric.
But anyway, Lord Thalric adjusted his clothes, puffing out his chest confidently. He wiped the sweat from his hairline before speaking in a voice he tried to sound powerful:
"Since the country demands a leader with 'spirit' and an understanding of faith... I, Lord Thalric of the Thalric family, offer myself as my own, to restore our planet with the light of hope!" The ensuing silence was more terrifying than the insults. Valen Korvax sat still, his yellow eyes staring at his rival with a sense of amazement... amazed by the audacity and baseless confidence of this man. He looked at the dark, failed hologram of Thalric's territory, then at the man himself, alternating between the two.
"Lord Thalric..." Magos Juris of Mechanicus's synthesized voice, sounding like a saw scraping against metal, "according to probability calculations, production in your territory has dropped to a level that..." "Unacceptable," and besides, we shouldn't be promoting the Church so much. That's not necessary right now."
"I agree with you, Lord Magos," the arrogant Baroness Vex said, fanning herself with a feather fan irritably. "You can't even manage your own territory properly. If you were governor, I fear we'd need all the incense on the planet to mask the stench of your failure. I don't support you."
Even the seemingly incompetent Lord Gammos shook his head.
"Sorry, friend, but if you were governor and ordered a ban on wine imports to fund the creation of more gold statues, I truly couldn't accept it."
Even the nobles supporting the Church began to tremble uncomfortably. They knew that if they elected an incompetent person leading to the planet's downfall, they would no longer have a "tax base" to exploit.
"Lords," Valen said in a calm but authoritative voice that made everyone turn to look at him, "we've wasted enough time nominating someone who can't even fix the sewers in their own house. Selecting a governor now is a wasteful undertaking..." "This planet is still in a 'semi-dead' state. Our duty isn't to find a crownee, but to get the gears turning again," Valen said with a steady voice, meeting the gaze of the other nobles who maintained a neutral stance.
"I propose that we postpone the election of the governor and establish a joint committee to monitor production quotas to avoid punishment from the Administratum. Anyone who fails to meet their targets... should have their nomination rights permanently revoked." Valen's words were like a blade cutting into the heart of Thalric, a portly man whose face alternately turned pale and red. He tried to argue, but facing Valen's cold gaze and the contemptuous looks from those around the table, he could only slump back into his chair.
"Agreed..." Two or three other neutral nobles nodded in agreement. They didn't want to risk a gamble with a fool, and they didn't want to start a war with Valen, who had a force of veteran soldiers backing him.
While the meeting became chaotic with discussions about numbers instead of dividing positions, Valen sighed deeply. He didn't want to think about how chaotic things would become if anyone decided to resort to military force.
After the tense and inconclusive meeting, Valen Korvax hurried out of the central hall. He wanted to escape the atmosphere filled with greed and the empty lies of the nobles. However… before he could reach the high-speed elevator, the rhythmic and elegant sound of high heels clicking on the marble floor echoed from behind him.
"Where are you rushing off to, Lord Korvax? Your work surely hasn't run away," a gentle female voice said. Valen paused and turned around out of politeness. He found Lady Anne approaching with an unreadable smile. Her youthful eyes swept over him from head to toe. Although she appeared to be a woman in her early twenties with flawless skin, Valen knew that beneath that appearance lay a woman over 200 years old, nurtured by the incredibly expensive Juvenat technology.
"I simply need to return to settle some unfinished business, Lady. It's not good that while other nobles are fortunate that their territories remain largely unaffected by the attacks of these heretics..." "But the territories under the Korvax family's rule still require considerable time to recover," Valen replied calmly. Lady Anne's voice was sweet and clear, yet laced with coldness.
"How similar your humility is... You know, Valen? Your keen vision and work ethic today are so much like 'Vorius Korvax'—a man who is quite visionary, decisive, ruthless, dedicated, and charming, especially those eyes." She stepped closer, and Valen could smell the rare fragrance of flowers as she gazed deeply into his eyes.
"Seeing you, I can't help but reminisce about the old days... when our families were much 'closer'," Lady Annes smiled mischievously, chuckling softly. A normal person would have been charmed by her, but he felt something different.
Valen felt a shiver run down his spine. He recalled the rumors he'd heard in the family archives—that Lady Annes had been his grandfather's former fiancée before political negotiations changed course. If the rumors were true, that meant this young woman had almost become his grandmother! And she was terrifying.
"Thank you for the compliment, Lady, but I must take my leave," Valen cut her off as quickly and politely as possible. He tried to avoid eye contact with the gaze that treated him like a mere virgin. That kind of look made him feel unsafe. "But I fear my abilities are not even half as good as yours. If you have no further business..." "I must excuse myself to attend to my pending matters."
"That's a pity. It would have been better if we could have continued talking... and let me tell you something, don't be so careless in my presence... it doesn't suit your demeanor." She remarked, watching Valen bow slightly before turning and walking away quickly.
Valen stepped into the elevator and immediately closed the doors. He felt a chill like never before. Managing everything after a crisis seemed easier than dealing with a 200-year-old woman whose eyes were connected to his family's past. He tried to shake off the distracting thoughts; he still had work to do.
____________________________________________
Day 350, Year 987, 41st Millennium
Hive Kathion
Upper Hive
Eric woke up to a bright new morning as usual. He stretched, shaking off the aches and pains from sleeping with his pillow in an awkward position, before getting up to attend to his personal hygiene in the bathroom and in front of the mirror.
"Okay... my hair's neat, no wrinkles on my shirt," he murmured to his reflection, adjusting the collar of his work shirt. He checked his gray accounting uniform again to make sure it looked as good and tidy as possible.
The commute to work today was... tedious, and nothing had changed except the journey to the train and then the walk to the factory where he worked.
The clatter of metal typewriter keys echoed throughout his small office. Eric sat hunched over, repeatedly entering numerical data for various product reports onto sheets of paper. A pile of documents containing the data that the auditors had checked lay beside the typewriter.
This work environment reminded him of his old world.
_Damn... whether it's the 2000s or the 40,000s, being an office worker is exactly the same. The only difference is that now I'm not using a computer, I'm using a printer instead._ He grumbled to himself, sighing deeply. Deep down, he was relieved; this job didn't require much physical exertion, paid well, and was safer. He'd initially wanted to enjoy his work, but it was starting to get boring. Despite the boredom, he was still happy with this kind of job.
When the bell rang signaling the end of his shift, Eric quickly packed his things into his bag. He blended in with the crowd leaving the factory and heading back to his accommodation.
The evening atmosphere (or what was called evening in Hive City, where the sun wasn't visible) was quite lively. Many people were returning from work to their homes. Eric walked, hugging his bag to his chest, his eyes instinctively scanning left and right cautiously. But inwardly, he was humming a happy tune.
_What should I eat tonight? Another can of fruit? Or maybe some cheap liquid food?_ Eric pondered his dinner plans. In his opinion, and in reality, the food here was much better than downstairs, but he didn't need to eat that much, even if he wasn't full. From what he'd read and studied, these foods were quite high in energy and nutrients, even in small portions. Therefore, eating until he felt completely full wouldn't be good.
_He'd definitely gain weight if he ate carelessly._
But his thoughts of a delightful dinner were interrupted when he turned the corner on the street leading to the residential area.
Amidst the bustling crowd, Eric noticed someone leaning against a lamppost on the other side of the street. The familiar figure and demeanor that stood out from the crowd made Eric stop in his tracks.
His eyes widened slightly as he felt a strange sense of familiarity, a sense of who it was, but he wasn't entirely sure.
Eric squinted at the tall, slender figure in well-dressed civilian clothes (but not overly extravagant like nobility). The face and build were very familiar... even without the short mustache. When the person turned their face to the side, Eric recognized them instantly.
"Vann?" Eric exclaimed inwardly. Vann's face was clean-shaven, revealing sharp features that were... well... quite handsome.
_Wait... stop that thought, Eric,_he quickly retorted, battling the thought in his head. _You're still a man inside! Complimenting another man on his looks is just... just a critique of appearance! I'm not attracted to anyone!_ Eric tried to push away the awkward feeling.
He was overjoyed that his other friend had survived. He didn't have many friends, and since waking up, he hadn't heard from Vann. Livia had told him that Vann had saved his life. Eric smiled before deciding to shout out to his friend with relief.
"Hey! Vann!... Hi! I haven't heard from you! Where have you been?" Vann paused slightly upon hearing his name called. He slowly turned towards the source of the voice, and the moment his face became clear to Eric, the wide smile on Eric's face slowly vanished, replaced by shock and unease.
Vann's right eye was covered by a completely black blindfold. Around the edge of the blindfold was a large, deep burn scar that stretched down to his cheek. Even more shocking was his right arm, now a sophisticated, sturdy, matte silver augmented arm—more intricate and powerful than Livia's.
"Hey... Erica," Vann greeted softly, his smile still warm. But to Eric, it was inexplicably sad. Eric walked towards his friend with heavy footsteps, his shy demeanor from earlier vanishing, replaced by worry and concern.
"Vann... your eye... and that right arm..." Eric asked, his voice trembling, his gaze fixed on the scar with guilt and despair.
"What happened? Why..." Eric spoke in a slightly shaky, low voice. Vann raised his left hand to scratch his cheek, embarrassed, and shrugged as if it were a minor matter.
"Oh... this? This eye? Just a memento from the battlefield. I got hit by shrapnel." "That's when I ran in to save you, severely injured near the wreckage of that giant tank," Vann said in a friendly tone, not at all concerned about his own injuries. He spoke as if it were another joke.
"Huh...?" Eric's face turned pale. "When you saved me...?" Eric asked in disbelief. At first, he thought Vann might have lost an eye in the battle or some other reason, but Eric never expected Vann to risk his life to save him and lose his eye in the process.
"Yes," Vann chuckled softly and stepped closer, looking at Eric with admiration, with only one eye left.
"It was chaotic then, but you were amazing, Erica. I saw with my own eyes you run through a hail of bullets... and throw that anti-tank grenade at that huge tank, making it explode into a giant fireball. If it weren't for your reckless bravery then, the PDF forces wouldn't have won that battle, and we would have lost." Vann spoke with admiration, causing Eric's face to flush immediately, a mixture of embarrassment and guilt.
"Brave? What nonsense... I just panicked and ran forward because I was terrified of dying!" Eric argued inwardly, but couldn't speak. Explaining now would be pointless. In that situation, retreating might mean being killed by his own side. Running forward, running into the horde of mutants fighting the PDF forces, seemed like the more promising option for survival.
"And because you destroyed the tank, they were stunned by the loss of a potentially life-threatening vehicle. They started losing their unity and began to flee. That's how I managed to pull you out," Vann continued, demonstrating his prosthetic arm. Eric noticed the arm; it was quite sophisticated and luxurious compared to some of the prosthetic arms he'd seen on tech priests.
Or was Vann's inability to install a prosthetic eye because he'd spent all his money on a prosthetic arm?
"It cost me one eye... but it was worth it to see you standing here safe." Eric lowered his head, a lump forming in his throat. A feeling of indebtedness overwhelmed him. He never realized that his current happiness was due to Vann saving him, at the cost of losing an eye.
"Thank you, Vann... and... I'm sorry. It's all my fault that you had to..." Eric whispered, unaware that tears were welling up in his eyes.
_Why am I so strangely sensitive?_ Eric thought irritably to himself.
"Hey, don't make that face like you're about to cry... What I did wasn't any braver than what you did back then. Back then, no one charged into the mutant ranks with only a pistol and an anti-tank grenade. You were braver than me," Vann quickly interrupted, trying to comfort the young woman in front of him.
"I'm a soldier. Wounds areare a mark of honor... Besides, this metal arm is cool. It can open soda bottles without a bottle opener," Vann tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but Eric knew (or thought) that beneath that smile lay the pain Vann was carrying. He silently promised himself that he would be kind to this man... At least as a friend who saved his life.
But Eric's gratitude, which had almost overflowed moments ago, vanished in an instant as Vann's gaze swept over his work attire. Eric's thick gray coat and neatly tailored trousers were viewed with a slightly teasing look.
"So, what do you do now? You're dressed much better," Vann asked, raising the eyebrow without the eye patch. His voice, which had been warm, was now playful and friendly again.
"I'm a warehouse accountant at a factory," Eric replied, trying to maintain a polite tone, even though he sensed danger from the other's smirk. Vann nodded slowly before chuckling softly.
"An accountant, huh? I hope you haven't accidentally fallen asleep at your desk. Remember your first day fighting on the front lines? Even with all that fighting, you still managed to fall asleep," Vann teased, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Eric froze for a moment, his face turning red with embarrassment mixed with a touch of anger. He had been grateful, but now he wanted to punch this guy in the face. If it weren't for the fact that Vann saved his life.
_That's because I'm too stressed and exhausted, damn it!_he yelled inwardly. The fear of what might happen if he acted out kept him gripping his bag strap tightly.
"And besides... can you read and write now? Low Gothic... the last time we met, you couldn't even read or write it," Vann added fuel to the fire.
This pointed remark about his language skills upon arriving in the future caused Eric's temper to rise instantly. He was seething, baring his teeth slightly, glaring at Vann accusingly. But given his relatively pretty face and physique in this body, his expression wasn't threatening at all; it was more like a cat puffing up its fur at its owner.
Vann found Eric's expression "trying to say I'm angry now" amusing and chuckled.
"Erica, do you know why, when you make that face? It's not scary at all. It's... funny." Vann almost said "cute," but quickly changed his mind.
"I-read-those-books!" Eric gritted his teeth, answering each word slowly, trying to adjust to the situation and suppress his anger.
"And I never fall asleep at work either! Stop bringing up old issues, Vann!" Eric said, raising his voice slightly and crossing his arms. Although he grumbled and made a sour face, Eric didn't walk away because it wasn't that serious and he could tolerate it. His close friendship forced him to let Vann tease him, even though inwardly he was cursing him:
_That foul-mouthed, one-eyed, one-armed jerk!_
Vann patted Eric's shoulder lightly (with his bare hand).
"Okay, okay, I won't talk about this anymore. Let's go get something to eat, my diligent accountant. I'll treat you as a bribe for reading Low Gothic and for your bravery. And I know a few hidden gems." Vann said casually, shrugging.
"Hmph!" "At least you know you started all this nonsense," Eric grumbled, but his eyes gleamed with barely concealed delight. He slowly uncrossed his arms and carefully considered the invitation.
He didn't know if he'd be bullied or not, and he was afraid he wouldn't make it back to his accommodation in time. Or, worst of all, he might be tricked and abandoned somewhere. Or even...
_Stop being so paranoid, Eric,_ he told himself. He knew how rare it was to find trustworthy people in this future world, and he was terrified of betrayal or abandonment (like Raul's case). But if he kept being so paranoid, he wouldn't have any friends and wouldn't dare do anything.
Going out for dinner probably wouldn't be a big deal, right? Eric gathered his courage before agreeing.
"Okay... for your generosity," Eric replied, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. Vann smiled and nodded slightly before leading Eric away.
"You won't be disappointed," Vann said confidently.
30 minutes later...
The triple-locked door clicked open. Eric walked into his room, sighing deeply. He'd narrowly escaped the arbitrators waiting to capture those who hadn't made it to their accommodations in time. A faint smile played on his lips as he placed his bag on the newly purchased, collapsible hanger and slumped into his folding chair, relaxing.
In his hand was a bag of sugar-coated crackers that Vann had bought him before they parted ways. He'd expected them to be dinner, but they were just sweets—a slight surprise, but he didn't mind too much. He was only slightly bothered by the somewhat complicated route to the shop, and he'd noticed a strangely close friendship between the shop owner and Vann.
_But he wouldn't pry into his friend's personal life._
Eric took a bite of the cracker. The crunchy texture and sweet flavor spread across his tongue.
"Mmm... delicious," he murmured, chewing the cracker and recalling his conversation with Vann that day. Despite being teased about sleeping on duty or about his illiteracy, deep down, Eric felt inexplicably relieved to know Vann was still alive. Even though the missing eye and the metal arm still made him feel guilty, it was better than having to mourn his friend on the battlefield.
"Vann is still the same... still has that sharp tongue," he frowned, thinking of that annoying grin. Then, one of Vann's words popped into his head, like a needle pricking his enthusiasm.
"Hey Erika... have you mastered High Gothic yet? If you master those languages, you could get a job higher than this warehouse accountant job. Maybe even get into a high-level spire!" Vann had even bought him a High Gothic textbook.
Erika paused, his gaze fixed on the pile of old books he'd bought and stored in the corner of his room. One of them was a history of astronomy book he'd wanted to read for a long time, but it was written in complex High Gothic, full of religious and academic jargon.
"A better job, huh…" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. To be honest, his current job paid him enough to live comfortably for the rest of the month. It wasn't that complicated, just a little tiring, and he felt this job was the best he could have had.
"Interesting, even though my work is already good, learning something new wouldn't hurt," Eric muttered, deciding to get up from his chair immediately. He took care of his personal needs, like showering and changing clothes; he didn't want to smell bad when he went to bed.
Then, Eric, dressed in a thin tank top and light gray shorts, picked up the High Gothic language textbook that Vann had bought him and unfolded it on the folding table. The light from the lamp reflected off the slightly aged paper, and he couldn't read the High Gothic script.
"Alright... let's begin," he took the last bite of his snack and began studying the book, muttering to himself about why this futuristic language was so difficult to understand. Luckily, the book also had a translation written in Low Gothic.
Eric quietly studied the language for about an hour before stopping. Every second of rest was precious, and he didn't want to waste any valuable time.
Eric closed the book and put it back on the bookshelf, letting out a long sigh. A soft hum of music escaped his throat, a rare sign of relaxation. He wasn't really putting that much pressure on himself regarding advanced language studies; his current life as an accountant was "balanced" and secure enough for an ordinary person seeking a peaceful life.
He stood up beside the bed, put the book away, stretched, and yawned to relieve the fatigue from a long day at work. As he stretched his arms, the strap of his thin tank top slipped down and rested on his upper arm.
"Oh no..." Eric quickly grabbed the strap back in, his face flushing with embarrassment. Even alone in his room, he felt awkward, but he tried to shake off the awkwardness and smiled at himself in the mirror before preparing to lie down on his comfortable bed.
But then… he felt a strange pain in his abdomen. Eric stopped in his tracks. At first, he thought it was just a side effect of the surgery, the kind that had caused him pain many times before. But the damp feeling at the base of his thighs made him quickly look down.
"Oh... no," he murmured softly, a mix of frustration and weariness in his voice, when he saw blood staining his light gray shorts.
______________________________________________
Writer's Note: Okay, this chapter deals with the fierce political climate of this planet. This kind of content isn't something I'm very good at writing, so it might seem a bit strange.