The ships in the void formed a nascent fleet.
light cruisers, frigates, and destroyers orbited the two colossal void ships like stars around a moon, forming a tight defensive barrier.
The captured dreadnought-class was being towed behind by dozens of thick chains.
At the center of the fleet was the Avenging Blade battle barge, and 100 kilometers parallel to it was the Unyielding battlecruiser.
Every ship had suffered more or less structural damage.
The Unyielding had two side-mounted lance weapon turrets rendered inoperable, with a small section of the armored platform supporting the turrets collapsed.
Fortunately, a Tech-Priest had promptly cut off the energy supply, preventing a short circuit from melting half of the side.
The entire side was riddled with dense bullet holes, like a honeycomb.
There were also some stuck unexploded ordnance.
Shipwrights and bomb disposal units were carefully defusing the fuzes of these shells.
Fabricator-Priests chanted mysterious prayers nearby, hypnotizing the bloodthirsty, corrupted machine souls of these shells, praying they wouldn't suddenly awaken and explode during the defusal process.
On the deck.
Under the funeral rites presided over by Ecclesiarchy Priests or Acolytes, the crew completely sewed the bodies of the sacrificed crewmen into canvas and slowly pushed them into the void.
They prayed for the mighty power of the Emperor's Light to guide them towards the Golden Throne.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, step forward, there's something here."
The Foreman led the Sailors in inventorying the belongings of the deceased, auctioning them off to nearby clans.
"A pipe! Come on, ladies and gentlemen, be generous to the widows who lost their husbands, and the children who lost their Fathers." The Foreman picked up a pipe, a Sailor's relic.
"50 gothic coins," a Sailor said.
"70."
"1000," said a Voidsmen-at-Arms, who was patrolling nearby with a gun slung over his back.
"What? Are you sure?" The Foreman asked, somewhat surprised.
"The traitor's bayonet almost stabbed me; he thrust a spear through, saving my life."
The Foreman nodded silently.
"Anything else? 1000 once! 1000 twice! 1000 thrice!"
The Foreman struck the small gavel.
"Thank you, kind Gentleman." He solemnly handed the relic to the Voidsmen-at-Arms who bought it.
The Sailor shoved the money into the Foreman's hand, took the pipe, and walked away with his gun.
"Next item, a scarf, fairly intact, just a bit of blood on it, who wants to buy it..."
All the money from these auctions would be handed over by the Foreman to the families of the victims.
This is how the Sailors of the Imperial Navy have helped each other to this day.
No one could say for sure that in the next battle, misfortune wouldn't befall their own family.
This kind of post-war charity auction, spontaneously organized by the Foremen, gave everyone a somewhat stable sense of security.
All ships were busy; the urgent post-battle overhaul was like a city after a flood, with a large number of areas needing repair, inspection, replacement, and preparation.
But the well-trained Naval Officers quickly arranged the tasks, and those old Warrant Officers who had served on the Unyielding for decades would execute these tasks very well.
The harried Officers needed to rest and release some stress.
They needed to enjoy a grand meal in the luxurious banquet hall.
Horatio and Farida, as Officers, were naturally invited by the Captain.
The young man and woman wiped the sweat from their foreheads and finally emerged from the hot and somewhat stuffy gunnery command platform.
The Warrant Officers of the two Macro cannons specifically came to see them off.
The Warrant Officers stood in two neat rows and saluted these two young but skilled Officers.
Especially that young male Officer.
Horatio walked and chatted cheerfully with Farida, while also nodding solemnly and majestically to them.
Two bottles of good wine specially supplied to Officers, one bottle of fine-brewed Armagnac cognac, were given by him to the Warrant Officers through a Navy Breachers Sergeant.
Another bottle of equally strong Saint Diallo rum was given to the diligent Navy Breachers serving as guards.
They were moved by the generosity of this young Officer; everyone felt grateful to him.
Whether openly or secretly, they praised the goodness of this legendary descendant Officer to everyone they met.
"Where are we going, Horatio?"
"The Captain's Office," he replied with a smile, exchanging salutes with the Officers they met.
The two arrived below the bridge, where there were noticeably more Officers.
In this setting, Farida seemed much more at ease than when she was with the Warrant Officers.
As the daughter of a Vice Admiral, she had been accustomed to being surrounded by respectable Imperial Navy Officers since childhood.
The Captain's Office was located on a slightly higher level where the bridge merged into the hull.
Here, there were arched decorative portholes all around, with winding metal grilles inside and out for decoration, no different from a palace style.
Stepping into the Captain's Office, which was at least 500 square meters, Horatio heard the melodious sound of music.
The Unyielding's military band was playing music on the stage, a grand setup, fully the size of a symphony orchestra.
The tune was serene and melodious, making one feel comfortable, washing away the tension of combat, and instantly relaxing one's muscles.
Horatio recognized it as a lowered variation of the Imperial Navy anthem, 'Rule! Imperium of Man!'
Horatio walked across the wide, soft red carpet, embroidered with gold threads at the edges, leading Farida towards the hall.
In the center was a huge, stylish, hollow oval lacquered wooden ring table, inlaid with gems and gold, handcrafted by master carpenters from a Garden World.
The table was covered with three layers of elegant and exquisite embroidered tablecloths.
The first layer was for seating.
The second layer was unveiled midway through the banquet.
The third layer was prepared for desserts and fruits.
Between each layer of tablecloth, there was a soft leather layer as insulation, to prevent soup or oil from seeping down and soaking the replacement tablecloths.
The tabletop was set with pure silver cutlery reserved for Officers.
Warm, moist napkins were folded into shapes favored by Officers, such as the Skyhawk, flames, and longswords.
For Officers with titles, their napkins were even folded into the shapes of their family crests.
Thus, Horatio immediately saw his seat; the napkin was folded into a winding sea dragon, the glorious totem of the Kirkland Family.
Next to it was the Hood Family's eagle.
The center of the oval table was hollow, with a lift platform underneath.
Directly below was the spacious Officers' kitchen, which employed the best Chefs from Abyss Port.
They never worried about employment; many were poached by Captains or flag Officers to be private Chefs.
Others were hotly pursued by Hive City nobles.
The Imperial Navy even established an honorary position for the head Chef of the Officers' kitchen, with an annual salary of a million gothic coins: Master of Culinary Arts.
It was currently the pre-dinner cocktail hour.
Officers closer to the bridge had already gathered here, sipping wine and waiting for the remaining Officers to arrive gradually from other parts of this 5.3-kilometer-long colossal ship.
They stood or sat loosely, gathering in small groups to converse.
A well-dressed official attendant, wearing white silk stockings and small leather shoes, approached, holding a tray with various fine wines.
Each one was a refined vintage produced from the Emperor's vast domains, originating from various Imperium of Man worlds.
This was what the Officers deserved.
The people standing here were the most excellent, most learned, and highest-ranking Officers in the entire Imperium of Man.
"What kind of wine do you prefer, Lady?" Horatio asked in a very Gentlemanly manner.
Because it was not a high-alert period, he smoothly replaced the military rank with an elegant honorific, extremely familiar, truly the demeanor of a noble.
"Sweet," Farida replied, returning to her usual lady-like demeanor in front of the Officers, her conduct elegant.
"Ah," Horatio smiled and nodded, "Then I recommend you try adding perfumed fruit juice to Katarin white wine."
"Is there anything special about this one? I'd like to hear you introduce it, Mr. Horatio," she asked elegantly and gracefully, completely at ease.
"Katarin white wine is the best white wine in the Imperium of Man; for many, it only exists in dreams, a rare and precious vintage. Thanks to the Charter Fleet."
Horatio's words piqued Farida's interest; she had the official attendant add perfumed fruit juice to the Katarin white wine as Horatio suggested.
Farida lightly touched the rim of the glass with her pink lips, coated with glossy lip gloss, and elegantly took a small sip.
Her sparkling emerald eyes instantly widened.
"It's really delicious."
Horatio maintained his smile and took a glass of precious brandy called Ryanka, produced from a feudal world, from the tray.
It was said that this liquor was brewed according to the authentic medieval French brandy production process, with a mellow and rich flavor.
The two, each holding a stem glass, walked into the banquet hall.
"Son of Thomas! Oh, and Miss Hood, a pleasure."
Seeing the talented young Midshipman and the beautiful young woman approach, an Officer with gold-fringed epaulets on both shoulders extended his wine glass to Horatio, smiling and greeting him.
"You've grown so tall now. When I first saw you, you were just a child up to my knees."
"Hmm, as this face matures from youth, I increasingly feel that you are truly the spitting image of your Father." A seated female Officer praised, also extending her wine glass to Horatio and Farida.
"The noble Gentlemen of the Kirkland Family are equally matched in strength. When Thomas Kirkland was your age, he also achieved great things as a Midshipman," a one-eyed Officer with an eyepatch chuckled.
"Let us toast to Chief Lord Captain Thomas Kirkland. May he bless our promotions." An Officer with two bionic arms and one bionic eye raised his stem glass and loudly called out to everyone.
"To Chief Lord Captain Thomas Kirkland. May he bless our promotions."
Several Imperial Navy Officers seated in the luxurious curtained booths recognized Horatio.
Several kitchen servants and apprentices occasionally passed through the crowd, busy serving them nearby.
Pouring their wine, selecting glasses, and mixing fine vintages.
The Officers in front of Horatio were all Naval Captains.
Both shoulders had eye-catching gold-fringed epaulets, noble and imposing.
The noble Gentlemen and Ladies in front were the Third Mate, Fourth Mate, Fifth Mate... of the Unyielding.
The Second Mate was nearby reporting work arrangements to Captain Peru and the Lord Captain, who was the First Mate.
These high-ranking, influential individuals on the Unyielding casually sat on gilded, soft sofas or stood on the carpet nearby, sipping wine and chatting.
[Are they worshipping my dad as the god of Imperial Navy promotions?] Horatio curled his lips into a smile and extended his wine glass to them in greeting.
When his never-before-met Father was still serving as the second-in-command on this colossal ship, they were all junior Lieutenants.
Now, these Gentlemen and Ladies have become sacred and inviolable existences, above billions of people in the Imperium.
And he himself has embarked on the same path, serving on the same warship that two generations had served on, a path that might have a different outcome.