40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 698 80. Interlude: Workaholic (1)

Nothing in this world is permanent except work.

The work is endless, you can risk your life to try it, but in the end it is the work that wins. You can spend 80 percent of your day working, but you won't get it done.

You can even go as far as to abandon the most basic needs of human beings and transform yourself into a cyborg that can meet basic physiological needs by simply injecting nutrient solution at regular intervals. However, this still does not help.

"How many officials in the entire Executive Yuan die from overwork every year?" Khalil asked sincerely.

A man answered his question in sign language.

This person wears a black robe and bears the personal seal of the person who holds the seal. He had no hair to speak of, and his pupils were as thin as pinpoints, obviously modified.

An eagle is embroidered on his forehead with gold thread, and his pale and bloodless lips are divided into uniform prisms by the gold thread, secretly embodying the beauty of mathematics and some kind of law.

Thirteen.

"There are so many?"

The man nodded and gestured again. His straightforward emphasis almost gave Khalil a headache, so he had no choice but to put down the data pad in his hand and ask another question amidst the bumps of the shuttle beneath his feet.

“Has there been any reform in administrative efficiency?”

The man hesitated for a while, nodded, and used more complicated sign language.

Khalil saw it clearly, and the feeling of depression in his heart became stronger and stronger. But it wasn't because of this terrifying language system, it was just that I found it difficult to accept what the mute guard told me.

Three hours ago, he left the Iron Lord's fortress with a belly full of precious wine worth thousands of gold. He did not yet know where he was going and what he would learn that would never make anyone happy.

In fact, he was trying to perfect a joke he had just thought of.

He thought that if someone killed him now, cut open his ribs, and then took out the dozen bottles of wine, he might be able to sell them for a good price, and he would have enough food and clothing from now on, as long as they were not mixed into unpleasant and deadly chemicals.

And now, he was thinking about the terrible system within the Imperial Executive Council. This incident was enough to turn any good wine into a bitter decoction, and it was enough to bankrupt anyone who tried to take the risk of killing him to get the wine.

Executive Yuan. He sighed at the memory and began to refine his impression of it.

From the information, he knew that the Executive Yuan was a complex and huge institution. It was located in the solar system, but it did not have a fortress. In fact, it is placed on a huge battleship, and it will slowly pass every fortress and stronghold in the solar system on a cycle of a century.

How complex its system is can be seen from this incident. Take the most basic personnel selection as an example. Every official who passes the selection and examination and successfully enters the Executive Yuan to hold any position will undergo transformation surgery one week before they take office.

The empire had been highly developed in this area thousands of years ago, especially in terms of life extension and mechanization. Thanks to the common needs of high-ranking nobles and the Mechanicus, these two are the most widely implemented.

But the reservists in the Executive Yuan have to deal with something different. None of the renovation projects listed on their surgical lists are for their own lives or future enjoyment.

Strengthen the heart to become an energy generator like a furnace. Remove the stomach and replace it with the No. 2 energy furnace. Replace blood vessels, replace nerves, and replace muscles so that they can react with the energy furnace in the body to obtain better output, speed, and work.

This is just the tip of the iceberg. More advanced modifications involving brain parts are not even within the reach of reserve officers. Only high-level administrative personnel are qualified to perform these surgeries.

In other words, if a person occupies a high position in the Executive Yuan, there may be no trace of original flesh left in his body.

His bones will be replaced with strong and durable metal, his heart will become a roaring engine, his veins will no longer be filled with blood, but electricity or other energy sources, and his brain will be connected to the Thinker Array , processing government affairs non-stop in microseconds

He will not even leave his seat, but will continue to be transformed over the course of hundreds of years, eventually losing his human form.

He no longer needs to eat, and various nutrient solutions will replace them to supply his body. He no longer needs to rest. Drugs, electronic stimulation and various suggestions can keep him working.

In this way, he will continue to work until he voluntarily accepts death, or merges with the Executive Yuan and becomes an advanced but huge meditator, the same size as the wall, filling an entire room.

It was something worse than any torture, but Khalil couldn't say anything about it.

Every reserve official will be assessed for a long time before entering the Executive Yuan. Before obtaining this qualification, they are likely to have worked at the grassroots level for more than ten years or even decades.

After that, they will receive an invitation letter personally signed by the seal holder, which will detail the possible harm caused by the work of the Executive Yuan and the impact on them personally.

If you still agree, you will be taken to the first floor of the Executive Yuan for a tour, and you can exit at any time. Only those who insist on staying will be qualified for training and examinations.

Moreover, even if you have passed the exam, you can regret it at any time within that week and choose to quit. There will be no punishment for this, and you will even get the badge of the Executive Yuan Reserve as a reward and proof of your ability. No matter where you go in the future, you will have a good future.

In other words, they are all voluntary.

They are willing to bet their souls and lives, and wear out their humanity in endless work. They understand from the beginning that they will become a nail in the center of the empire's hub, and will become a part of it after death.

These people know this clearly, but they are happy to do it.

Caryl looked down at the data board in his hand, where a report stayed. It used sufficient investigations and data to reveal one thing: since the establishment of the Executive Yuan nearly ten thousand years ago, only eleven percent of people have chosen to withdraw from the selection.

This is simply

He swallowed the second half of the sentence, and suppressed the urge to sigh, feeling that even showing a little pity would be disrespectful to these people.

The shuttle continued to shake, and the scenery outside the porthole was wonderful. Dark chains that are no different from mountains, or even larger, float among the stars, connecting planet-sized fortresses one after another.

However, ordinary people will never notice these chains unless they observe them deliberately. They are so dark that they seem to not exist in the real universe, and no light can stay on their surface.

Everything - rays, lights, engine tail flames - are lost in the dead darkness like a drop in the ocean. And between the fortresses, countless ships are sailing, sailing in an orderly manner in their assigned areas.

Caravans are with caravans, nobles are with nobles, and warships are parked at the far end, patrolling silently. The small patrol boats of the Ministry of Justice float above everyone's heads, and travelers from afar kowtow to the most dazzling light in the solar system in the huge cargo ships.

Order.

Khalil retracted his gaze, and the depression in his chest was finally dissipated a little. He felt relieved - order is always good, and the worst, most extreme, and most violent order is a hundred times better than chaos.

If there had been a king on Nostramo who unified the Eternal Night Star before he started the massacre, it might not have been as extreme as it was later.

He lowered his head and continued to check the information on the data board, and he had already entered the working state. Malcador gave him five days, but he didn't need such a long rest time.

Ten minutes later, the shuttle turned off the engine and parked in a star port.

The mute guard walked out of the plane first, turned back and made a sign language to him, indicating that he was leaving temporarily. Before leaving, he did not forget to call up a map on the data board for him, as well as a complete guide route map. After doing this, he put on his hood and left in a hurry.

Khalil watched him completely disappear in the sea of ​​people, then he retracted his sight and began to observe the surrounding environment. This had already become his instinct, but now he was wearing a full set of Inquisitor uniforms, a wide-brimmed hat, and a data pad in his hand.

It didn't take a moment for the crowd to tacitly turn a few meters around him into a vacuum zone, and no one approached him at all.

Khalil had no choice but to follow the map with a smile on his face.

The interior of the starport was very large, like an intricate little world, where almost anyone and anything could be found. From vendors to smugglers, Khalil even saw some petty thieves wandering around the edge of the crowd.

He pretended not to see it, but changed direction and took a long detour to walk towards them. The child on guard saw an Inquisitor coming towards them and almost screamed out of fright.

But they still had some psychological qualities after all, and soon raised the alarm without causing too much trouble. Khalil secretly found it funny, but still pretended to know nothing and continued on his way.

He quickly left the landing pad, followed the instructions on the map, boarded an elevator, and finally stopped at the 32nd floor. When the elevator door slowly opened, the world in front of him had nothing to do with the previous noise.

The beautiful piano music echoed in the fresh air, large patches of green plants were spread on both ends of the road, and the white stone brick road surface and the different and highly designed villas showed Caryl the true identity of the 32nd floor with low-key luxury.

He took off his hat and strode onto the expensive road. The workers wearing uniforms and sweeping the road on both sides of the road immediately noticed him, and many of them began to choose to use the intercom on their belts to report to the upper level.

Judging from their sturdy bodies, these people are obviously not just simple cleaners. Caryl took in all of this without making any comments - he came to work, and work should have a working attitude, just like those cleaners.

Their diligent behavior was soon rewarded. When Khalil crossed an intersection and was about to head to the gate of the most luxurious manor in this ecological dome, a sound of horse hooves sounded from behind him.

He turned around and saw a pale white carriage. Two tall white horses that looked like monsters were looking down at him with their heads down, exhaling hot white mist from their noses.

The door was quickly opened, and a lady dressed in a very standard manner got off the carriage led by a servant and bowed to him gracefully.

Khalil looked down at the data board in his hand and brought up the target page.

"Sir, it stands to reason that you should have informed us before you came -"

" - There is no need for that, Ms. Rosta Brar."

The smile on the lady's face did not diminish at all. She nodded and continued: "So, why are you here this time, my lord?"

"To investigate the murder of Major Abelard Brar at the end of the thirty-ninth millennium." Khalil replied.

He still had his head down, his fingers running across the datapad. The servant standing next to the lady raised his head anxiously, trying to see the information on the data board with the smallest movement, but could only fail.

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The noble lady herself was indifferent. She thought seriously for a moment and said: "If my memory is correct, my grandfather's case was declared closed twelve years after his death. Can you take a step to speak, sir? We are ready." Had tea.”

"I can't drink tea now," Khalil said, looking up. "But yes, Major Brar's case is closed, but I'm not here for it."

"Sir?" The lady's smile finally became a little stiff. "I don't understand, could you please explain?"

Khalil didn't look at her anymore, he just put on his wide-brimmed hat with his backhand and pulled out the power sword from his waist. With a buzzing sound, the decomposition force field was activated immediately.

The servant's expression changed instantly, and he subconsciously blocked the lady, but the attack he imagined did not come. The judge didn't even look at him and his master, but turned around and walked into the manor.

He and his master looked at each other and had to follow quickly. The private soldiers in the manor asked for orders anxiously and impatiently. No one dared to act rashly. They could only watch the sudden arrival of the inquisitor walking through the manor's hedge maze, marble square, and historic fountain.

Then a sword split open the statue of Abelard Brar located next to the fountain.

The rocks rolled down and hit the ground like dull thunder. The smelly blood spurted out from the broken section of the statue, staining the fountain and the white ground red in a moment. Countless human entrails slid out, bringing heat and hellish nightmares.

Khalil narrowed his eyes and dropped the sword. He put the five fingers of his right hand together and stabbed it into the base of the statue like a knife. He grabbed the throat of a monster to prevent it from screaming out in agony and contaminating others. soul.

Only then did people belatedly scream.

The private soldiers were screaming, the servants were screaming, and so were the aristocratic young masters and ladies who were snooping outside the manor. Of all the people present, only the lady remained calm.

She took a deep breath, pulled out a short knife from the servant's waist, cut off the hem of her skirt without hesitation, and then strode towards the fountain.

Khalil raised his left hand towards her without looking back.

"My lord!" she stopped where she was and shouted loudly. "I swear to the Emperor that I will unconditionally support whatever you do next!"

Khalil didn't answer, but slowly exerted force with his right hand, completely extinguishing the last hope of the thing in the statue. Only after he finished this task did he speak.

"No, no need." He took out his hand, grabbed the sword again, and stood up slowly. "You don't have to prove anything to me. The loyalty of the Brar family is unquestionable. Madam, you have dedicated your life to the empire for a long time."

"And the conspiracy of this evil thing has nothing to do with you. It is just lurking here, waiting to make trouble one day in the future, so that Abelard Brar and his 673 family soldiers under Roviru can The half-month-long persistence and sacrifice on the cliff turned into nothing, and their blood flowed away in vain. "

He turned to look at the woman, who froze, feeling that the inquisitor did not look human at all at this moment.

Fortunately, his gaze did not last long, and soon he sheathed his sword.

"The people handling this will be here in a few minutes," he said quietly. "According to the rules and regulations, they need to thoroughly check every detail here, but I have already seen it, except for this statue, every inch of your family's land is very pure."

"And what about people?" asked Rosta Brar. She unconsciously clutched the knife, her fingers turning white.

Khalil glanced at her and suddenly smiled: "It's the same with people. It's just that I'm too talkative. It's time to change some of your family's traditions."

"What do you mean?"

Khalil looked up at the two little heads sticking out of the second-floor window on the right side of the manor, and spoke softly.

"If I remember correctly, these two children are the only ones left alive in this generation of the Brar family. According to tradition, these two children will also join the army as soon as they reach the right age. Is that right?"

"Sacrifice is the foundation of the Empire, my lord."

"Yes, but it is strong enough now. Just wait a minute, madam, let your family flourish first, and then we can talk about other things. I think if Major Abelard knows about this, he should would also agree with me.”

Rosta Brar's expression was uncertain for a while, and finally, she let out a sigh, and her shoulders that had been raised suddenly dropped.

"We must maintain the glory of the family, but you are right. But, if I may say more, who are you?"

Khalil did not answer this question, but turned to look at the lady with a meaningful look in his eyes. But she didn't know that in another world, her grandfather was actually standing next to her.

Abelard Brar, who had been dead for many years, slowly made an eagle salute to him, with a huge hole in his blood-stained chest.

Khalil nodded slightly and returned the greeting, but said: "I am just an inquisitor - may the Emperor bless you, ma'am."

Behind him, the mute guard who had left earlier was walking quickly with a team of people. A few minutes later, the case was closed. According to the regulations, Khalil will take it back to the Inquisition in the near future, hand it over to the Seal Holder, and finally seal it in the file.

But before that.

The shuttle engine hummed and started.

Khalil looked down at the data pad in his hand, swiped it several times, looked up at the mute guard, and suddenly made a joke: "I'm afraid you will have to work overtime with me today."

The mute guard shook his head, handed him a new data pad, and then made a sign language: work never ends.

Khalil stopped laughing.