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Superior?
Didn't my brother's superiors get obliterated by the antimatter bomb?
Yang Ming found himself in a somewhat dim parlor, facing three individuals dressed in the military uniforms of the Sherman Empire.
During the three days he had been confined to this small dark room, Yang Ming hadn't been idle; he had crammed a vast amount of basic knowledge by using Hanton's memories and accessible books.
For example, the three imperial soldiers before him, Yang Ming immediately recognized their ranks.
The middle-aged man in the center was a lieutenant colonel, likely the principal leader among them.
The young woman on the left was a lieutenant, holding a notebook-like network terminal, responsible for recording.
The major on the far right didn't make much of an impression; he seemed to be an assistant.
"Hello, Captain Hanton," the lieutenant colonel spoke first, extending his right hand proactively.
Yang Ming performed a salute with a flick of the fist before lightly shaking the hand.
"Please sit, Hanton."
The lieutenant colonel gestured, and the prison guards politely exited the parlor.
The female lieutenant took out an oval device, pressed a few buttons, and a pale blue plasma light screen enveloped the four of them, cutting off outside eavesdropping.
Such an impressive piece of technology.
The lieutenant colonel said in a deep voice, "Hanton, we're a bit late, and I hope you don't mind. The military made a well-considered decision to have you bear this infamous role. Your performance at the interrogation meeting was excellent."
"Sir, it was my duty."
"You may need to endure some grievances next," the lieutenant colonel continued, "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm a staff member of the Empire's Military Intelligence Section Twelve. You don't need to know my name; officially, I'm a technical officer."
"Understood, sir."
Yang Ming nodded in acknowledgment, "What does the Empire need me to do?"
His acting was flawless.
"Yes, Hanton," the lieutenant colonel said, his expression sincere, "you cannot plead guilty; it would inflict unprecedented damage on the Empire's reputation. We must publicly deny the existence of Professor Kigrov and the Valkyrie Plan. Or rather, they never existed."
Yang Ming nodded to show he understood.
"Don't worry, Hanton, regardless of the interstellar court's verdict, we'll get you back within two to three years. You'll become a hero—though you can't appear publicly, you and your family will receive the treatment of a hero's family."
Yang Ming's eyes were filled with longing, though inwardly he was cursing.
This meeting lasted about five minutes.
The imperial lieutenant colonel encouraged and instructed him a bit, mainly to have Yang Ming deny the Valkyrie Plan in court.
This was likely part of the Sherman Empire's interstellar propaganda campaign, otherwise, the Empire's Military Intelligence Section Twelve wouldn't have approached him as an expendable pawn.
As for whether anyone would still pay attention to this pitiable Hanton after the next trial...
Yang Ming held no illusions about it.
Better to think about how to escape; at least that seemed more feasible.
Every three days, prisoners had the chance to participate in a collective airing, taking turns by floor to head to the top deck garden. The fifth floor's collective airing was from 3 to 5 pm.
Yang Ming planned to use today's airing to carefully observe the prison's layout and promptly establish an escape plan.
Leaving the prison actually wouldn't be that difficult; the real challenge was how to get a spaceship capable of warp and how to pilot it—these were Yang Ming's biggest hurdles.
But after lunch, something unexpected happened...
"Number 0639, Hanton."
Chief Gulipa, holding a piece of square glass, frowned at Hanton.
There was a hint of perplexity in the chief's eyes as he read the newly received information.
"Room Number Ten, your superior is waiting for you again."
Huh?
Did those three forget to remind something and hurried back?
Isn't the rule of this prison that one can only be visited once a week at most?
Then again, such rules of an interstellar organization are meant to be trampled by powerful political bodies.
Yang Ming arrived at the parlor door under the escort of guards, and as he pushed open the door, he was startled.
There were still two men and a woman in imperial uniforms, still a configuration of a lieutenant colonel, a major, and a lieutenant.
But they weren't the same three who had come before lunch.
What was going on?
Yang Ming suppressed the doubts in his heart, performing the same military salute, handshake, and seating gesture. His counterparts took out a rectangular device that unfolded a pink light shield.
"Captain Hanton," the lieutenant colonel said, "I'm a staff member of the Military Intelligence Section Twelve; you don't need to know my name, as per our protocol."
"Sir," Yang Ming decided to proceed cautiously, "is there anything I should be reminded of?"
"Yes, Captain," the lieutenant colonel sighed, "the current public opinion is unfavorable to us. We're sorry to have kept you waiting here so long. We'll rescue you soon."
Yang Ming displayed a grateful expression.
The lieutenant colonel pondered for a moment, then slowly said,
"You know, Hanton, every nation is actually conducting genetic fusion experiments. Kigrov may have been a bit radical, but he was still a scholar we respected.
"We invested heavily in the Valkyrie Project, but all we got were remains too fragmented to piece together."
Yang Ming asked, "Wasn't the experiment content backed up remotely?"
"Regrettably, it wasn't," the lieutenant colonel said, "it's a basic oversight, but Professor Kigrov was unwilling to share his research results with other departments nor did he consent to backup."
Yang Ming almost cheered out loud.
Yang Ming said in a somber voice, "I didn't directly participate in the experiment, nor do I have any data regarding it. I was responsible for maintaining the fire pipelines as a third technical officer... you should know that."
The lieutenant colonel looked disappointed.
This lieutenant colonel quickly pulled himself together and inquired about Yang Ming's life there, promising that they would soon bring him back to the Empire.
Yang Ming inquired about his 'companions'; the lieutenant colonel responded fluently, accurately naming several researchers who were placed on recovery on the Administrative Star.
This meeting lasted about six minutes.
After returning to his cell, Yang Ming couldn't stop question marks from flooding his mind.
Two batches of Military Intelligence Section Twelve officers?
What was going on?
One real and one fake? Or perhaps both fake?
A bit chaotic. Yang Ming felt he needed to sort through it carefully.
"What's wrong, Hanton?"
The elderly cellmate cautiously asked, "You seem like you're in trouble, restless lately."
Yang Ming sighed, "Maybe it's just being locked up for too long, feeling uneasy. I haven't done anything wrong."
"Yes, Hanton, none of us did anything wrong; it's the world that's wrong," the elderly man chuckled.
Yang Ming nodded in agreement; even his cellmate A lost interest in chatting.
Another two hours passed, and the familiar footsteps appeared once more.
Again?
Yang Ming frowned, looking outside the cell at the approaching chief holding the block of glass—this block of glass was similar to a network terminal, akin to a smartphone.
"Number 0639, Hanton."
Chief Gulipa's voice carried hesitation as he looked at Hanton, checking his received information against the terminal.
The chief's mindset shifted slightly.
"Room Number Eleven, your superior... just how many superiors do you have?"
Yang Ming shrugged, "I'd like to know too."
...
Yang Ming never expected that among the third wave of 'superiors,' he would see someone familiar.
Doctor Lina.
She wore a white blouse and a dark green professional skirt suit, her golden hair tied at the back. Her slender figure created a stunning curve, exuding a unique charm of a mature woman.
Yang Ming glanced at the other man and woman. The lieutenant colonel in the center and the female lieutenant on the side gave Yang Ming an instant sense of 'these are imperial soldiers.'
The female lieutenant produced a hexagonal device, unfolding a pale golden shielding light screen that enveloped the four of them.
"Hanton, are you okay?" Doctor Lina asked softly, her eyes betraying an undeniable concern.
"Not bad," Yang Ming smiled in response.
"Hello, Hanton, I'm a staff member of the Military Intelligence Section Twelve," the middle lieutenant colonel stood up to shake Yang Ming's hand, "apologies for meeting you only now; we had many procedural issues to tackle."
Yang Ming nodded slightly, taking a deep breath.
"You're the third batch," he stated, "the third batch of Military Intelligence Section Twelve officials."
The three showed expressions of astonishment.
The lieutenant colonel frowned, "The previous ones should be intelligence agents from the New Federation and the Free Federation. Damn, they beat us to it."
Doctor Lina quickly asked, "Did you tell them anything?"
Yang Ming shook his head, "I was just a third officer on the ship, responsible for maintaining the fire pipelines. Isn't that right, Doctor?"
"Yes, that's right," Lina smiled elegantly, "luckily, Hanton, you were cautious enough. They were likely aiming to acquire the research results of the scientific vessel."
Yang Ming replied, "All were obliterated in the antimatter bomb."
The lieutenant colonel said slowly, "Rest assured, Hanton, we'll get you back soon. I know you're a loyal soldier, and the Empire won't forget your meritorious service."
"Thank you," Yang Ming said sincerely.
Lina pulled out a medicine bottle from her bag beside her and pushed it into Yang Ming's hands.
She said, "This medication has been approved by the prison authorities; you can carry it with you all the time. Take one every three days or whenever you feel unwell. It'll alleviate your symptoms of depression."
"Oh, thank you so much, Doctor."
Yang Ming clutched the bottle tightly, gazing at Lina.
"We'll take you away as soon as possible, Hanton."
Doctor Lina said before leaving.
Yang Ming felt his eyes become slightly moist. He nodded in agreement, cuffed with the medicine bottle in hand, and followed the guards back to his cell.
As he lay facing the wall, his expression turned indifferent.
Yang Ming opened the bottle, finding pale yellow transparent capsules inside.
Was this truly a gene stabilization drug?
Should he trust Lina?
Three waves of Empire's Military Intelligence Section Twelve officials...
Which wave was genuinely from the Sherman Empire? Whom should he trust?
Yang Ming attempted to detach himself, sorting through the information calmly.
Soon, Yang Ming arrived at a general conviction in his heart.
Through deduction, he confirmed that Lina was unlikely to harm him, at least for the moment. He took a capsule and swallowed it without hesitation, carrying the bottle close to his body.
Yang Ming keenly observed that his body became more subdued; the crisis of losing control was temporarily averted, thus validating his deduction to some extent.
The guards' whistle sounded outside.
The thrice-a-day airing was officially beginning.
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