Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 170 The Internet Project (3)

Three months after Eternal Fortress went into operation, network reconnaissance has entered a new phase of routine operation.

In the office on the top floor of the side hall of the temple, twilight was seeping in from outside the transparent armor plates of the dome, casting a thin, dark golden halo on the dark gray metal desk. Cohen sat behind his desk, a data panel spread out in front of him, displaying the Trask family's population transportation details for the previous month.

Phyllis sat opposite him, dressed in a deep red technical priest's robe, her face fair, with a faint blue-white halo occasionally flashing deep within her irises. Her focus now was not on the long voyage—the trade director needed a global perspective, not every single departure.

The modified body made her movements so precise they were almost imperceptible.

During this time, she went through all the backlogged tasks one by one, and now she was flipping through another data panel, her fingertips unconsciously tapping a rhythm on the edge of the screen.

"The Trask family shipped four batches last month, totaling nearly thirty million," Phyllis said calmly, her voice revealing shrewdness and competence. "Adding to the recruits that the administration has made from various hives in the Calissis sector, the total population of Garros has now exceeded five hundred million."

Cohen didn't speak. He turned to the next page, where a monthly summary of the spaceport quarantine station was displayed. The numbers were arranged in neat tables under the cold white light, each row labeled with the date, source, and outcome.

"Five hundred million people." He repeated the number, his tone devoid of emotion.

"In the three years since the Battle of Armageddon, we've added 400 million people," Phyllis confirmed. "At the rate of dome expansion, that's far from the limit. But the problem isn't space."

Cohen looked up at her.

"More than three thousand people were executed at the spaceport this month alone." Phyllis flipped a page of data and pushed it in front of him. "The Trask family's screening process was not thorough enough. They only did surface quarantine and didn't check for deeper infections. Those who slipped through the net were eventually screened out by the genetic scanners and isolation procedures at the quarantine station."

Cohen glanced at the summary. The numbers were accurate to the last digit, and each execution was identified by the method of confirmation: gene sequence matching, confirmation of the incubation period, or onset of illness during isolation. Most were gene stealers, and a few were other types of alien infections.

"Who's in charge of the spaceport?" he asked.

"The 7th Regiment of the Guardian Corps, at full strength, is stationed here. It is responsible for maintaining order at quarantine stations, sealing off isolation zones, and handling emergency responses."

Cohen nodded. Garros needed the ability to operate independently—the Apostolic Guard stationed at the spaceport, with the quarantine stations run autonomously by the administrative and medical systems. He knew that such strict quarantine couldn't completely solve the problem, and while his consciousness could, he couldn't just live at the spaceport doing nothing but this. Furthermore, the Chaos Cultists, especially Tzeentch's followers, were even more difficult to guard against. For now, he would do his best.

"What about the trade routes?" Cohen asked.

Phyllis leaned back in her chair, tapped her finger on the edge of the table with precision, and landed precisely on the same spot.

"The Seriflis route has recently encountered two Chaos Raider attacks. They were small-scale, with single ships roaming freely, which the Faith Guard and accompanying frigates could handle. The number of Greenskins is also increasing; they are not organized, but their numbers are rising, and they are starting to band together. They haven't threatened the main shipping lanes yet, but we need to keep a close eye on them."

"What about the adamantite route to Turenstein?"

Phyllis paused for a moment. She didn't need to flip through the data panel; those numbers were readily available in her optical sensor array.

"The shipping route to Turenstein is currently stable, operating at a fixed schedule. The supply of refined gold ore has not been interrupted."

She paused for a moment, then spoke about what she had been considering.

"I'm thinking—that route, Turenstein itself. Could Garros open a portal there?"

Cohen's fingers paused on the table. Ever since the announcement of the Network Gateway at the highest levels of Garros, everyone in the know had been eager to figure out how to maximize its use.

Phyllis continued, "If we could connect Turenstein directly to the network, a stable intersectoral transport route would bypass all navigational risks—Chaos Raiders, Greenskins, Imperial Navy checks—and most importantly, all the dangers of the warp would be eliminated." She paused briefly, her tone carrying a shrewd eagerness. "Gallos could then consider bringing this adamantite-rich planet entirely under its control; from what we understand, it's also exceptionally rich in other resources."

"The premise is—" Cohen said.

"The premise is that there is a corresponding network node in the location of Turenstein," Phyllis continued. "You said that network gates can only be deployed where there is a main gate to connect to. If that sector does not have network coverage—or rather, the network capillaries do not extend there—then this proposal is invalid."

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Her finger paused on the edge of the data panel. "And even if there are nodes, we still need to find a path within the network connecting Garros base to that location. You also mentioned it's severely damaged, with most channels blocked, corroded, and severed by warp intrusions. Especially since Garros has only just come into contact with the network, this is very difficult."

Cohen leaned back in his chair: "So this can only be planned in advance."

"We can't do it now," Phyllis said. "But we can do preparatory work. First, we need to confirm whether there are any network nodes in the Turenstein sector. If there are, we can see if we can find a connecting path within the network. If not, then this plan doesn't work, and the adamantite ore will continue to be transported via subspace."

Cohen was silent for a moment. He took a sealed gold box from under his desk and placed it on the table. The box was small, with Garros' gear-skull emblem and a line of binary code etched on its surface. He pressed a sensor on the side of the box, and the lid popped open.

The interior is lined with cushioning material. A folded spirit bone frame—a sophisticated structure made of dozens of articulated spirit bone segments—is embedded in a fixed slot, folding tightly into the box. The overall size is roughly equivalent to a heavy weapon case, and it can be carried by a single person.

This is a scaled-down version of the original Spirit Bone Network Gate, created by Cohen. All the structures are replicated, only scaled down countless times. The key to unlock it is the same as the main gate of Garros—the Eldar-imposed authentication protocol for the secondary gate. How to modify it is still in the deduction and optimization stage, and it is expected to be completed in the foreseeable future.

This key wasn't absolutely secure; Chogris's conspiracy possessed it. But a crucial fact remained unknown to them: Garros had already established the gateway to the network and was using the key to what they believed to be a long-destroyed gate. Information asymmetry is security.

"A portable secondary door," Cohen explained to Phyllis. "A miniaturized version, single-passage size. It has a spirit bone structure and an internal verification protocol. It's also activated by psionic energy."

Phyllis's gaze fell on the folded skeleton frame. She had seen Garros's portal deep within the Netway of Wangshu, and had even entered the Netway herself, but that main portal was fixed in the center of the dome and was enormous. This thing before her—it could be packed into a box and taken on the ship.

"Take it with you on your next voyage," Cohen said. "Once you get to Turenstein, just deploy it on the ship. Have the accompanying psykers try to activate it. If a usable Webgate node exists in the sector—the maingate will respond. If not, or if the corresponding maingate is damaged—it won't react at all."

Phyllis's optical sensor array scanned the portable secondary door, her expression revealing an undisguised eagerness.

"Handle with care; this is strategic equipment of Garros. You go to Turenstein yourself, and I'll arrange for psionicists to accompany your ship. They're all basic trained and can reliably output psionic pulses. Garros's special psionic forces have already tested this secondary gate, confirming the protocol is pre-loaded. The psionicists I've assigned to you know how to attempt to activate it."

He closed the lid and pushed it towards Phyllis.

"Get a few Stormtroopers from Kara to go with you. In extremely dangerous situations, you can take cover in the net tunnels."

Phyllis reached out and pressed her hand against the box. The adamantine outer shell was cool, and the weight transmitted through the metal was heavier than she had expected.

"What if it's feasible?" she asked.

"That's the next step," Cohen said. "First, confirm the feasibility, then consider how to connect them."

She nodded, picked up the gold-plated sealed box from the table, and placed it on the floor next to her chair. The box made a short, muffled thud as it hit the ground.

As they were talking, the door slid open. Vera walked in, wearing a deep red fourth-order technical priest's robe. The transceiver array on the back of her head was in low-power standby mode, with six extremely thin data antennas retracted into the base. She paused in the doorway to make sure both people in the office were there, then stepped inside.

"You've come at the right time." Cohen gestured for her to sit down. "We just finished discussing the Trask family matter."

Phyllis nodded to Vera.

Vera sat down next to Phyllis and placed the data panel on the table. "I don't concern myself with the Trask family's affairs; that's the Ministry of Trade's business. I'm here to talk about the Tech Priest."

She opened the data panel, pulled up a list, and pushed it across the desktop. "The Network needs to enhance its technical capabilities. I've selected a group of people—all vetted and controllable; once they enter the Network, they're not normally allowed to leave. They're senior technical priests who have served on Garros for at least three years. There are forty-seven people in total, covering most categories and disciplines. They can be stationed permanently on the Eternal Bulwark."

Phyllis glanced at Vera, listened quietly, and scanned the list with her eyes.

"Are forty-seven people enough?" Cohen asked.

"That's enough for now. They're all moving in as teams, so forty-seven people make forty-seven teams. Adding the teams led by the five high-ranking technical priests who moved in earlier, along with apprentices, craftsmen, and ordinary technical priests, there are now nearly twenty thousand mechanical monks," Vera said. "The servant production line on the Eternal Bulwark is already operational, and most routine maintenance can be done by the servants. The technical priest teams are mainly responsible for core systems and handling anomalies. If the network exploration area expands later, we'll consider sending more."

Cohen nodded. "Leave the list. After I approve it, you arrange for them to move in."

Vera pushed the data panel forward an inch and leaned back in her chair. "Okay, we'll follow the confidentiality procedures. We won't know the truth until we get into the network."

Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door—short, crisp, the rhythm of boots striking the terracotta floor with the precision characteristic of the Guardians. Then came the servo skull notification from the corner, awaiting Cohen's reply.

Cohen confirmed that he could be summoned.

The door slid open. A Guardian Messenger stood in the doorway. He wore dark gold power armor, and the edge of his crimson cloak was creased cleanly by the circulating wind. The marks left by the implanted mental barrier module on his forehead were covered by a thin layer of artificial skin, but the outline of the edges was still discernible. The explosive pistol and chainsaw sword at his waist hung neatly, and the gear and skull emblem of Garros and a thin silver stripe on his right shoulder armor were etched—the insignia of a Web Path Messenger.

He stood at the doorway, his right fist pressed against his chest.

"Chief. Stormbird Reconnaissance Team Thirteen has returned today. Here is the log." He strode in, then retrieved an encrypted data pad from the inside of his breastplate, handing it to him with both hands. "The intelligence is encrypted and has not been uploaded to any terminals."

Cohen took the data panel. The messenger bowed again, turned, and left, the edge of his cloak brushing against the doorframe, his footsteps fading into the distance along the corridor.

Cohen pressed his thumb on the sensor area. The data panel screen lit up, and a holographic image unfolded above the table. Clearly, the Eternal Bulwark intelligence analysis team had completed preprocessing within hours of the reconnaissance team's return. The image before him was a holographic summary, with key nodes pre-marked as jump points and irrelevant segments cropped out.

The image presents a view from inside the Web. The lighting is dim, with the unique psionic cold light of the Web. The bottom left corner is marked with the Terran standard, while the top right corner shows the passage number—"Large Passage 029".

The first marker appeared at the thirty-seventh hour. The Stormbird encountered an energy inrush breach, approximately three meters in diameter, with moderate erosion at the edges; no active entities were observed. Then came the second and third fracture surfaces, each with a brief label.

The next scene depicts the Stormbirds encountering the demon squad. Dark red silhouettes emerge from the shadows of the network wall, their forms twisted and their movements inhumanly incongruous. The muzzle flash of the twin-barreled heavy bombardment explodes in a cold, psionic light, and the twelve dark red silhouettes are counted one by one, reduced to ashes and vanishing. The Tech Priest's annotation reads: "Twelve units, suspected low-level chaotic entities, eliminated."

Fast forward. After clearing the passage, the Stormbird accelerates again and flies for about two hours, during which the passage suddenly widens in the footage.

The holographic image freezes on that frame. A network hub unfolds in the center of the image, data constantly being calibrated. The dome is approximately 300 kilometers high, with multiple large passageways connecting to it. Then the image zooms in, focusing, and on the far left side of the wall, a complete Baroque-style doorway outline is inlaid. Calibration data: height 3 kilometers, width 3 kilometers.

The Tech Priest's annotation: "Large node main gate 0124, inactive state, outline visible."

After hovering at the entrance for a few seconds, the Stormbird moved at an extremely low speed along the edge of the wall, landing in a recessed niche at the edge of the node. The thrusters were completely shut down, the passive sensors activated silent mode, the shadow field array was activated, and thermal signals and electromagnetic radiation were compressed to background noise levels. The sensor array maintained minimal power consumption. The timestamp began to jump at several times the normal speed.

"Generally, we observe in silence for a month," Cohen explained to the two. "If there is no activity, we downgrade to Level 2 concern and leave the machine servants on standby. There are hundreds of nodes that have been discovered, and most of them are in this state."

The timestamp jumps to day five. The network node has changed.

Cohen's knuckles paused on the armrest for a moment.

A Nightscythe-class reconnaissance ship slid into the node cavity from the side passageway. Its silhouette was long and sharp, approximately one kilometer in length, and its shadow field reflected almost no light in the cold, psionic glow. It hovered in the center of the cavity for several seconds, its attitude-adjusting thrusters spewing emerald-green light as its bow slowly turned towards the main entrance. Ripples appeared in the center of the entrance, quickly spreading throughout the entire opening. The reconnaissance ship's thruster nozzles lit up, and it entered the ripples of void. A large gap remained between the hull and the edge of the entrance frame; the secondary entrance opposite was clearly a match—this was a large node.

The image's edge is labeled: "Ship passes. Door is active. Passage is open."

The images marked the path from the Eternal Bastion to the node, as well as the tunnel from which the Dark Eldar scouts had come. That tunnel, highlighted and marked as approximately 200 kilometers in diameter, was the largest passable tunnel Garros had encountered so far, and there was reason to suspect it led to Gamor.

Then the door closed after about ten minutes, the void ripples dissipated, and the wall returned to its complete mesh structure. The entire process lasted less than thirty minutes. The Tech Priest's annotation: "This node's attention level has been raised to Special. This tunnel is designated as Large 039."

The passageway.

The footage continued to play in fast forward, displaying a timer for several hours. The cavity returned to silence. The Stormbird slid out of the niche and retraced its path. The holographic image on the data panel was turned off.

The silence in the office lasted for several seconds.

Cohen stared at the darkened screen and said, "The network has no shortage of nodes. When the Ancient Ones built this network, the tunnels extended to every corner of the galaxy. The main gate is there, embedded in the framework of the network, existing silently. But the secondary gates are on the side of the real universe. If the secondary gate is destroyed, forgotten, or buried, then its corresponding main gate will be a dead wall."

The roads inside the network are still there, but the exits are gone.

He paused. "The Eldar preserve the location records of their ancestors; it's their most precious legacy. But not every door is still usable, nor is every one recorded. So all Garros can do is one thing—continuously scout every discovered node and wait by the main door. Hopefully, one day, whoever it may be—the Eldar, the Dark Eldar, or any race with the right key—will activate it. Once the door is open, Garros will have a chance."

He paused for a moment, then added, "Of course, this is just one path. We'll have more proactive methods." He then looked in Phyllis's direction.

Then Cohen turned to Vera: "We have now found a main gate that is not silent, which leads to a path used by the Dark Eldar."

"So how do we obtain its psionic key?" Vera asked.

"While the Eldar are about to enter or return, I'll take the opportunity to go to the area where the secondary gate is located to handle it," Cohen said, glancing at Vera and Phyllis. "I have a way to handle it. I'll get a few artillery barges equipped with shadow fields, and Kara's Stormstrike Force. No problem."

Phyllis and Vera both nodded in agreement with this explanation.

Phyllis stood up and lifted the adamantite-sealed box from beside her chair. The box felt heavy in her hands; the weight of the secondary door was transmitted through the adamantite shell to her palm. She walked to the doorway and turned her head: "I'll handle things on the Turenstein side. If the node exists, we'll negotiate further."

"Okay," Cohen said.

Vera stood up as well, the transceiver array on the back of her head flashing a cold light in the lamplight by the door. "I'm going to the Eternal Fortress to check on the progress of the bombardment of the barges. It's too much trouble for you to handle it personally every time."

The door slid shut behind them. Cohen stood alone by the window. The main gate deep within the network—the scout ship that went out would surely return. Once, it would come again. He would personally go and seize the opportunity to acquire a second network node outside of Garros. That would be a milestone—a goal even closer than the Turenstein adamantite route.

Weeks ago, Cohen repaired the left and right sides of the first node of Garros. These were two damaged small, primary network channels, inhabited by a two-meter-long, wasp-like creature capable of inexplicable flight in a vacuum—he cleared the nest and repaired the main gate at the end. Subsequent tests revealed that the Garros system has not just one network node, but three, and they can all be activated simultaneously. Although all three can only pass through the five-meter-diameter tunnel, this is sufficient for both the Garros primary star's subsurface and Garros VI to install a network gate. He did not find a fourth node within the system—this initially confirms the assumption that network nodes tend to cluster together within the system. The mechanisms for flow guidance and resource allocation between nodes of different scales still require verification with more sample data.

Meanwhile, at the Garros Space Port, the Valiant combat transport ship has begun loading outbound supplies. Phyllis will personally embark on a voyage next month, ostensibly to strengthen trade relations, but her true purpose is to travel to Turenstein to verify the existence of the network node. If the portable secondary gate can be successfully activated, the form of the Garros adamantite route will be redefined.

Cohen stood by the window for a moment, then turned and walked back to his desk. The main gate deep within the network, which had been detected, was the target within reach, while the exploration of Turenstein required a longer preparation period. He would take down that gate first, and then proceed with the network connection of the adamantite route.