"Louise! By the grace of the God-Emperor, I heard from Sister Arabella that you are alright."
Horatio found Louise, who had come to visit her injured team members and was preparing to return to the academy.
As a captain, her care for her subordinates was meticulous and thoughtful, and after Horatio became busy, she took on a lot of the work managing the Hellspawns for him.
"Horatio. It's so good that you're unharmed."
"Thank you for the amulet you gave me; it must have helped a lot," Horatio said with a light chuckle, pulling the black stone amulet from his collar.
She returned his gaze with an intelligent, gentle, and soft smile.
"However, I heard… something big happened yesterday," Louise said, lowering her voice.
"That's right, and that's also why I came to find you. But it's not convenient to discuss it here," Horatio whispered, exchanging salutes with the Naval Officers passing by.
Everyone could see the 'Unyielding Star' on his chest, which meant that according to Navy regulations, they had to treat him as a commissioned Lieutenant.
"Me?" Louise's red lips moved slightly, and her expression was a little confused.
"The Hellspawns now have an official independent department, placed under the command of the Naval Special Operations Command, with the Military Intelligence Command and the Fleet Security Committee as its superior departments.
Currently, Lieutenant Stirling is the principal officer of the Special Operations Division, and I am the deputy. But I can nominate another deputy, and I want to give that position to you."
Horatio's eyes were very serious; even if he didn't say a word, Louise could tell that he needed her assistance.
"Don't worry, leave it to me." Louise's lips curved into a confident smile, and she extended her fist towards Horatio.
"I believe you can definitely do it."
Horatio also smiled relaxedly, clenching his left hand into a fist and bumping it against Louise's tactical-gloved fist.
—
The second day after Sanguinala was an embarrassing start for Henry Harvey, the second officer to enter the Naval Officer Preparatory School from the Fleet Maritime Department.
He participated in the Battle of the Church of the Celestial Woman and only sustained minor injuries.
The Navy Department awarded him 500 academic points as an initial commendation, which barely allowed him to meet the 10,000-point qualifying line for Midshipman.
But he awkwardly discovered that because both of his parents were deceased, and his Father was a General in the Astra Militarum.
This meant that despite his noble birth, he had no connections in the Navy, and naturally, no captain extended an olive branch to him.
Because most Midshipman had family members who were Captains, or at least noble friends of Captains, they had already paved the way for these children, who wanted to gain honor in the Navy, to board a ship.
Of course, he could wait in line according to the procedure until the Navy Department assigned him to a ship for internship.
But he had just learned from the Navy Department's deployment plan that there were three thousand Midshipman ahead of him waiting for a ship. Calculating with an internship quota of 20 people per cruiser, he would have to wait at least 5 to 8 years to get on a ship for an internship.
The Imperial Navy would not let these years go to waste; after he finished officer preparatory school, he could continue his studies at the Military Academy.
By the time he finished the academy, it would be almost his turn to board a ship, as officer graduates from the academy received priority in assignments.
But as a Soldier, studying so diligently, from any perspective, was frustrating.
It was like a sharp sword hidden in its sheath with no chance to taste blood, only wasting away years, waiting to rust.
Henry Harvey sat in the Schola Progenium's bar, his brows tightly furrowed.
"One glass of Amasec, undiluted, with ice, please."
"Sir, you've had enough today."
"Doesn't matter, fill it up."
"Mr. Henry Harvey, why are you sitting here drinking alone?"
Horatio deliberately removed the Unyielding Star from his chest before entering, pretending that he, like Harvey, was just an ordinary Midshipman.
"Horatio?" He looked at the newcomer entering, immediately recognizing the Navy's rising star.
"Give me an Amasec too, please." He sat next to Henry Harvey.
"Congratulations, I heard you boarded the battlecruiser Unyielding and achieved victory in subsequent operations. That deserves a second congratulations."
Horatio humbly made a self-deprecating joke: "It wasn't all good; I almost lost my life this time."
The two laughed.
"So, you 'big shot' who just got off the ship, what brings you here?"
"I have an opportunity for you to stay away from alcohol."
"That's definitely not getting on a ship, so what's the job?"
"The Hellspawns have become an independent department, with Lieutenant Stirling as the principal officer, but it still lacks assistant officers. The Lieutenant is almost driven crazy by public relations and countless paperwork. When I go to the front lines, I also need someone to take over the dispatching work for the strike team."
Henry Harvey blinked.
"But I'm just a Midshipman who hasn't even been on a ship."
"But first and foremost, you are a Hellspawn. Since the Naval Special Operations Command is the department specifically managing Hellspawns, as one of the first talents cultivated by the training corps, I think you should be competent for the assistant officer position?"
"No problem!" Draining the strong liquor in one gulp, Harvey slammed the glass heavily onto the solid wood bar table, the crisp sound like a heavy sword being drawn from its sheath.
—
"Horatio, everything is ready."
"Good, thank you, Archie. When the Inquisitor and I are on our mission later, I'll leave the uploading and downloading of our information to you."
"Don't worry, Horatio!"
Archie looked at the young man in plain clothes before him and replied heartily.
"Let's go, Louise."
That evening, Horatio, accompanied by Louise, and Inquisitor Ravenor's team, decided on their first strike target in the secret room of the Sky Dome Cage in just one day.
"The planetary encirclement has temporarily ended; the Blood Pact have retreated to their hiding places, attempting to remain hidden and re-accumulate strength.
My informant discovered an underground bar in the Lower Hive connected to the Howling Teeth Gang.
Tonight, a cult ritual called the 'Feast of Gluttony' will be held here, and an important figure from the Howling Teeth Gang will appear.
We'll go there first; perhaps that guy can give us the answers we need.
Using the Howling Teeth Gang as a lever to pry open the cracks of secrets."
"Your efficiency is astonishing.
Let's depart."
Inquisitor Ravenor, in his plain clothes disguise, wore an English flat cap, his sturdy muscles stretching a wrinkled black overcoat, his gaze fierce and sharp.
To fit the disguise of a Lower Hive Overseer, he was disheveled, wore sturdy boots, and had a crude cigarette hanging from his mouth in a roguish manner. This outfit made him perfectly resemble a hooligan.
Horatio, who had experience with underground gangs, was dressed in standard biker attire: a black windproof mask, a patched studded jacket, thick, faded denim pants that could serve as leather armor, and various peculiar metal trinkets hanging from his waist, used for intimidating others.
He looked like nothing more than an ordinary Lower Hive gang minion, making it impossible to guess his respectable and authoritative true identity.
Among those present, Louise's attire was the only one that struck Horatio as refreshing.
Logically, she shouldn't have experience mingling in the Lower Hive, but perhaps due to her Kasrkin reserve infiltration training, her disguise was very natural.
She wore a sharp studded punk-style jacket over a scratched T-shirt, with a bandage bandeau and bulletproof lining beneath the T-shirt.
Her entire image was smeared with pungent machine oil; to look more authentic, she even smudged a few dark stains on her face.
For the well-trained Louise, this was as easy and natural as applying camouflage to her face, and she naturally didn't care about the pungent, strange smell and dirtiness of the machine oil.
"You're very professional," Horatio laughed.
"Do you need me to put some on you too?" Louise asked with a knowing smile.
"Come on." He turned his cheek, and Louise gently placed her hand on it.
Once everything was ready, an old, unmarked van quietly took off from the platform, flying into the vast darkness.
Beneath its deliberately aged exterior, this shuttle was well-equipped.
It had special explosion-proof glass, still in the laboratory's small-batch production phase, powerful twin engines capable of supporting heavy armor plating, at least fifty millimeters thick at its thinnest points, covering the fuselage, powerful electronic warfare Thinkers, and a cargo bay containing enough military equipment to arm ten people, emergency medical supplies, and a personal miniature thinker array whose function was known only to the Inquisitor.
The shuttle, using the cover of the underground steel jungle, along with its stealth coating and dispersal jamming devices, drifted silently like a ghost existing only in people's midnight dreams, unknown to anyone.
It slowly descended into a dirty, quiet alley.
Horatio jumped out of the cabin.
"Boss!" A small, sneaky figure suddenly appeared hanging upside down from above, then agilely flipped down from above.
Beneath a black cloak, there were a pair of shining cat eyes, and perked cat ears poked through the cloak, alert to their surroundings.
"You did well on this reconnaissance, Yoyo. Lead us there." Horatio rubbed the Half-cat person girl's cat head through her cloak.
"This way."
It was a very noisy but large bar; even from outside, Horatio could see the flickering figures of people inside, going wild.
The maniacal, roaring music made the entire building tremble.
The raucous, piercing singing sounded more like heart-wrenching war cries; Horatio could only clearly distinguish the words 'uprising' and'slaughter.'
Outside were fully armed gunmen, whose equipment, though Clutter, was no less sophisticated than that of the Blood Pact Soldiers.
They were clad entirely in bright red bulletproof armor pieced together from various sources of ceramite.
Their faces and arms were covered in knife scars, and they held old automatic rifles wrapped in blood-red bandages.
With the help of Horatio's Hand of Command, he quickly marked the enemies using a bird's-eye view.
There were over a dozen gunmen outside, all with large red markers above their heads. This was something the Inquisitor and his subordinates had never seen before.
These disguised and mutated Inquisition agents looked at their leader in surprise.
"Oh, what's this?" The Inquisitor looked at the suddenly appearing red arrow, his tone slightly surprised.
"Father Lati's custom holographic tactical command device," Horatio casually brushed him off.
"That Father seems to have quite a few good things," the Inquisitor praised softly, looking as if he truly believed it.
It was quitting time, and many workers were gathering at the bar, eager to relax their bodies and minds, which had been ravaged by a day on the assembly line. This undoubtedly provided cover for the agents' infiltration.
"Come… give me some booze! Round two! I got my allowance today, give me something better, the second best!"
Inquisitor Ravenor, looking like a small Overseer, swayed unsteadily, holding a half-empty bottle of cheap 'second best' liquor.
In front of everyone, he took a swig of the burning, foul-smelling, chemical-laden cheap liquor.
There was no way to tell he was a disguised Inquisitor.
Seeing a group of drunks, dressed no differently than ordinary Middle Hive laborers, staggering towards them, the Cultist guarding the entrance glanced at them before refocusing their attention, still arrogantly resting their guns on their spiked ceramite shoulder pads.
"One by one for inspection. Heh! *spits*!" A gunman who looked like a squad leader spat on the ground and barked.
"If we find any guns, you're dead."
He clenched his fist, placing his finger on the trigger.