Chapter 643
Hideout
Chapter 643 Hideout
The shuttle's engines started, and dazzling halos spread out from the edge of the anti-gravity generator, rippling through the perpetually hazy atmosphere of the Grey Dwarf Star. The nimble aircraft passed through the radar blind spots on the edge of the city and accelerated toward orbit along a beam of sunlight.
Old Joe felt that there was a lot of strange "noise" in his logic chip. Some thoughts and emotions that didn't seem to belong to him were stirring in his mind. These feelings brought unease and lingering doubts, making him increasingly irritable.
He attributed these “malfunctions” to the injuries he sustained in his previous encounter with the bizarre giant—and the impact of being thrown to the ground by the “little animal.”
The restoration of this body must be completed as soon as possible.
This idea kept churning in his mind, even overshadowing all the other random thoughts that were swirling around.
But he still had doubts from time to time—was Luo really dead?
The question initially only flashed through Old Joe's mind when the shuttle took off, but as time went on, this sudden unease grew stronger, causing him to subconsciously recall the situation over and over again, reviewing all the initial details of the ambush.
He realized he hadn't actually witnessed Luo's death—the moment the bunker and the shield behind it collapsed, the flashes and smoke from the artillery fire obscured his vision, and then the incendiary bombs falling from the sky and the giant serpent banshee that appeared out of nowhere interrupted everyone's attention from the target.
Old Joe pounded on the control panel in front of him, cursing every vicious curse he could think of.
However, he no longer had the courage to return to that dark, lost city to search for Luo's whereabouts—he had already lost a large number of clone soldiers, drones, and walking machines there, and this was, after all, a complex planet for the Grey Dwarves, where countless military groups were deeply entrenched, and the raiders and warlords all regarded this planet as their sphere of influence. He could no longer deploy more ground troops to this planet.
At least not in the short term.
Moreover, Luo's trump cards are currently unknown—at first, she acted like a stray dog, hiding in the comfort of the upper city with only a few guards, but now that I think about it, she was probably acting from then on... That bitch did lose a vanguard laboratory and a large number of troops, but it is clear that during the days she was captured by the border region, she... received some other "help".
Careless.
The shuttle burst out of the atmosphere, crossed the vast, cold darkness, and found the escort ship docked in a hidden "dark harbor." It then quietly slipped into the escort ship's hangar.
After boarding, Old Joe immediately scanned the personnel on the frigate and then connected himself to the ship's mainframe to confirm the status of the entire spaceship.
He trusted no one, not only the clone soldiers loyal to him, but also the AI systems on his ships.
He would never allow his true self to come into contact with those dangerous "potential traitors" outside, and he was even extremely cautious when using his avatar to contact the outside world.
Only after confirming that everything was normal did he breathe a slight sigh of relief, and then ordered the escort ship to jump away from the planet.
The most urgent thing is to leave; everything else can be discussed later.
The spaceship slowly accelerated from the departure point of the dark harbor. As it approached the large jump bridge, it received a second boost. The entire ship quickly collapsed into a phantom in the real dimension and then disappeared into space.
It flew straight into the depths of the Dark Current Starfield, shifting between a series of hidden jump points. In between, it used forged stargate jump codes to jump multiple times through illegal stargates built by the Black Dot Group or certain large warlord forces. After an unknown number of jumps and "stargate jumps," the small escort ship finally emerged from the edge of an ancient gravitational collapse point and returned to the material universe.
This is a desolate and dark space, where local channels are silent. Even the most powerful captains and smugglers in the Black Domain have never discovered this place—a dying, dark yellow star floats in the universe. Around the star are only two barren and ugly rocky planets, and beyond the orbits of the two planets is a large, sparse asteroid belt. Fragments of broken stars move slowly under the pull of the star's gravity, and several unstable clouds of ice mist shroud the asteroid belt.
The frigate flew straight into the depths of the asteroid belt, finally arriving next to a large "rock" that looked like just a giant space rock, with a pitted surface and a metallic sheen.
A light suddenly appeared on the surface of the boulder, and then a navigation light that stretched for more than ten kilometers was projected out of thin air into space.
Two small frigates and a space fighter emerged from the nearby darkness, but quickly retreated back into the shadows after being identified. Old Joe piloted his spaceship into a gate on the surface of the "space boulder," which quietly closed. Then, the holographic projections around the gate flickered a few times, concealing everything again.
Bright, pale lights illuminated the long corridor, the surroundings exuding a cold, metallic feel. Tall, imposing steel figures entered the airlock, passed through connecting passages, and walked alone inside the base.
In this familiar and safe environment, Old Joe finally relaxed completely.
He scratched his shoulder, which had started to itch again for some reason, and walked straight to a room in the base.
All systems are running automatically and responding precisely according to the owner's habits—the lights adjust their intensity, the nearby walls adjust their color and surface texture, and the equipment in the room starts up on its own before the owner even enters.
Old Joe entered the communications room. The holographic projection device in the center of the room was already lit up, and the communication interface, emitting a faint glow, displayed an "encrypted" mark. The blurred, processed image flickered slightly. "We hope for good news," a monotonous, synthesized voice came from the communicator.
Old Joe walked to the projector and slammed his hands heavily on the control panel as if venting his frustration: "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. That woman is more troublesome than you think..."
"It's your imagination, not ours." The voice on the communicator sounded unusually calm.
“It doesn’t matter,” Old Joe said with a stiff, mocking smile. “She’s already prepared to see you make a fool of yourselves—this is what you deserve for withholding crucial information from me.”
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the communicator: "...What do you mean?"
"Why don't you tell me about your 'out of control' situation first?" Old Joe's lips curled upwards. "'A vast void large enough to summon angels'—that's not what you told me before. You said everything was under control, and you just needed the raw data from Zolda Blackstone to optimize the charging process of the 'Gate of Eden.' You guys made it sound so easy, and I had my doubts before..."
This time, the silence on the other end of the communicator lasted even longer. In the shaky, blurry image, figures seemed to be whispering to each other. After a while, processed voices finally came through the speaker: "This is an internal matter of the Order and does not affect the content of our transaction with you. We only need the data—for that, the price can be adjusted."
"Now, we need a definite answer—are you still capable of completing this transaction?"
Old Joe's metallic mask twitched a few times. After temporarily muting the microphone, he cursed viciously, "...a bunch of damn idiots, uncivilized morons, they deserve to live like grotesque monsters in a cesspool..."
Then he turned on the microphone and said through gritted teeth, "The deal can continue, but I need some time to prepare again—the 'negotiations' with the target have broken down, and I'll have to find another way to deal with her."
"Very good, we believe in your ability and commitment."
A mechanical voice came from the other end of the communicator, but before the call ended, Old Joe suddenly spoke again, this time his voice sounding even colder and harder than before: "Listen, I'm taking a huge risk this time. I'm even sacrificing my future in Black Dot Group to complete this deal... I don't mean anything by it, but it's necessary to remind you that you're in bigger trouble now."
"...We are all taking what we need," the voice from the communicator seemed to be slightly disturbed, with a crackling noise, "Don't worry, the Path of Sacredness will record everyone's merits and demerits, and all contributions will be rewarded on the day of reckoning."
The sound from the communicator faded away, and the holographic projection above the large device flickered a few times before gradually dimming.
Old Joe stared at the sliver of light in the air for a few seconds, then let out a dissatisfied grumble from his chest.
He withdrew his hand from the control panel, but frowned in confusion the moment he raised it, looked at his palm, and then back at the control panel.
He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but when he raised his hand just now, he felt that his palm was a little... sticky.
It's as if it's stuck to the ground.
He checked and found no sticky substance on his hands, and the control panel surface was also clean.
Confused, Old Joe scratched his itchy shoulder, then started scratching his chest, arms, and lower back.
A strange "itchy" sensation spread throughout his body, making him somewhat irritable.
The lights in the room flickered unnaturally, and a hissing sound, like breathing when one has a tracheitis, came from the ventilation ducts. The monitor in the corner slowly adjusted its angle, and the cold camera inside its protective case stared at Old Joe's bald metal head.
Old Joe had a feeling, and suddenly looked up at the corner of the wall, but found nothing.
Feeling even more agitated, he muttered a few words to himself, turned and left the room, walking through the corridor to another brightly lit place.
When he's in a bad mood, he comes here to appreciate the art he creates and relax.
The sliding doors on the walls hissed softly, the lifting mechanism on the roof descended gently, and display cases buried under the floor rose from the far end of the room, while a gentle Algerian melody drifted from a speaker in the corner of the room.
Old Joe sat on the sofa in the center of the room, leaning back comfortably with a satisfied smile on his face, looking at the "art" that he had carefully processed and meticulously maintained.
Those robust limbs, beautiful eyes, smooth skin, and healthy spine.
(End of this chapter)