Chapter 97: Only Six Hundred Years
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
“Could the Chu family really interfere with Heinrich’s actions?” Lin Xu asked, though the meaning behind his question was quite clear. If the Duke Chu really had the power to meddle in Heinrich’s marriage, he wouldn’t need to swagger up to him first; he could simply pick a fiancée for Heinrich and arrange it immediately.
“Of course not,” Zhou Pingbo said with a smile as he looked at Lin Xu. Heinrich Chu was an adult responsible for his own actions. Though he bore the Chu family name, his blood ties to the Duke were so distant that there was no obligation of support. The resources of the Chu family were of no use to him. Apart from the Chu family’s one-sided wishes, Heinrich and the Chu family were not a unified interest group in any meaningful way.
As for marrying into the family… Lin Xu hadn’t even considered those matters. Sometimes, he felt like a wanderer on the wasteland, belonging to no social ties.
The two walked forward, sunlight streaming through the museum’s glass curtain walls. The rays were divided by the Doric columns decorating the interior. The leaf-shaped stone carvings at the tops of the columns cast slender, beautiful shadows on the black marble floor.
There were no tall buildings around the museum. Through the nearly invisible glass walls, a lush forest stretched into view. Giant tree canopies concealed the high-tech facilities on the ground, revealing only the tops of the garden’s towering harp angel fountains. Although the elements were somewhat mismatched, for a fleeting moment it felt like being in an ancient Earth palace.
“What’s the real financial strength of these Imperial nobles?” Lin Xu suddenly asked.
Since arriving in the Marion Empire a few years ago, at least within the Crescent District, Lin Xu could indeed sense that ordinary people didn’t exactly grovel before the nobles, but there was definitely a kind of reverence toward them.
The interstellar era, like pre-apocalypse Earth, belonged to commerce and capital. A noble title alone could not command that kind of respect.
Zhou Pingbo thought for a moment before answering, “It depends. Families like the Chu can easily put forward five million star coins without a second thought. And giants like the Hill Family, who hold pioneering rights over a dozen planets, can compete with the mega-corporations of the Long Whale Region.”
In the early days after the Ark Fleet landed on habitable planets, a military rule system remained for the few human generations, with signs of dictatorship and authoritarianism emerging.
But as more uninhabited planets were discovered, humans who found new worlds planted flags and claimed them as private territories. Thus, the planets in the Einstein Galaxy became the claimed property of the surviving tens of thousands of humans.
The military system collapsed under the pressure of private planetary ownership. To avoid rebooting the fragile human society, the supreme military leader of the Ark Fleet transformed into an emperor. The Ark Fleet society was renamed the Marion Empire, meaning the “Imperial on the voyage.”
Those occupying planets were given noble titles, but the founding emperor never intended to build a feudal empire on a cosmic scale. The Imperial Parliament and the Great Imperial Charter began to take shape amid the chaos.
The Charter legally recognized the nobles’ ownership of the planets they occupied. Initially, this didn’t matter much, but as the Imperial population surged from tens of thousands to billions, planetary development became urgent.
Most easily developed planets were private property of the Imperial nobles, so developers had to pay huge sums to purchase land from them.
Denying noble private ownership would mean denying the Great Imperial Charter, which had shaped and lasted through the Imperial era.
In the midst of chaos, the royal family, nobles, and parliament reached an agreement, granting nobles “pioneer rights” to their private planets, recognizing their contributions to human civilization, and exchanging development rights at relatively low prices.
Human planetary development accelerated rapidly, and the Marion Empire’s expansion quickened. Nobles profited handsomely. Meanwhile, the Long Whale Region’s emerging business groups rose to prominence, forming today’s bipolar Imperial landscape.
The Crescent District was a maze of ancient noble powers; the Long Whale Region thrived on business and capital’s extravagance. And Dionysus District?
It was nothing but poverty, backwardness, desolation—and the headache of Star Pirates and rebel groups for the Imperial authorities.
Zhou Pingbo added, “I don’t know the real assets of the Perseus Group. Maybe they aren’t weaker than the Hill Family, just missing an ancient noble title. Don’t take Duke Chu’s threats about making you disappear to heart. His generation has only produced one parliament member and a junior officer, making no waves in the Crescent District. You have many enemies; losing him wouldn’t make much difference.”
The two climbed the steps toward the artifact management area. The number of people ahead gradually increased. Putting aside the Chu family’s issues, Lin Xu asked Zhou Pingbo, “Professor Zhou, what did you want to see me about?”
“It’s about the G398 medal.”
“What’s wrong with the medal?”
“There is a problem, but I can’t be sure if it’s due to my lack of expertise in artifact testing. I want to borrow your museum’s professional equipment to run another test.”
Lin Xu nodded and stepped forward to lead the way. As they passed through the open doors of the artifact management area, the staff inside quieted upon seeing Lin Xu and Zhou Pingbo.
The laboratory was three floors underground, with constant temperature and humidity controls to reduce environmental impact on fragile artifacts. Using his access privileges, Lin Xu opened the elevator and led Zhou Pingbo through a sleek silver corridor, then into the lab.
The lab’s shiny white machinery sharply contrasted with the museum’s vintage architecture, but somehow it felt more welcoming to Zhou Pingbo. He pulled out a special box holding the medal from his pocket and handed it to Lin Xu, then looked around the lab. All the machines were neatly arranged, spotless, with barely any signs of use. There was only one swivel chair on wheels in the entire lab.
Zhou Pingbo watched Lin Xu’s practiced movements and asked, “Is this your personal lab?”
“Yeah.” Lin Xu said as he slipped on latex gloves. His long, slender fingers gently lifted the medal from its box. Turning, he activated the particle decay detector and placed the metal medal into the cubical space at the top of the machine. The orange-red light flickered on. He put on a reflective silver face shield and handed another to Zhou Pingbo, gesturing for him to wear it.
The machine’s intelligent voice prompts had long been disabled by Lin Xu, which sometimes left Ryan—who occasionally assisted him—completely overwhelmed. Now alone, Lin Xu expertly adjusted the machine’s settings to analyze the metal medal’s composition and determine its age.
The detailed testing process was lengthy. After using the particle decay detector, Lin Xu planned to build a chemical decay model for the medal. He motioned for Zhou Pingbo to sit for a while on the swivel chair.
The underground lab was network-restricted for security, unable to connect to StarNet. Zhou Pingbo fiddled with the controls for a few minutes until he managed to access the museum’s internal network and browsed the digital visitor pages to pass the time. Hours later, the humming of the machines finally stopped.
Lin Xu removed his face shield and stared at a long list of data displayed on the screen, his brow furrowed. Zhou Pingbo stood and walked over, watching the complicated data scroll by. “What did you find?” he asked.
Lin Xu said nothing. He operated the device to prompt the AI for its calculation results. The numbers on the screen matched almost exactly with his previous computations.
“So this is the ‘error’ you doubted?” The screen’s blue light reflected across Lin Xu’s face, sharpening his cold demeanor. That number caught Zhou Pingbo’s eye as well. His breath grew heavy and he answered solemnly, “Yes.”
“My test results also say… this medal is only six hundred years old. Dr. Lin, are you sure it really came from ancient Earth three thousand years ago?”
Lin Xu’s face tightened, but his voice remained calm. Using tweezers, he flipped the medal over in the tray, revealing the serial code on its back:
“20690908-WRSG003. This code means the medal was minted by the Northern General Base of the Western District on September 8th, 2069, according to ancient Earth’s calendar. It’s the third medal in this batch. I estimate the Ark Fleet left Earth between 2070 and 2085. From then until now, over three thousand years have passed.”
If both Lin Xu’s and Zhou Pingbo’s dating results were correct, the medal should be as old as the Imperial itself—three thousand years—not just six hundred. Where had the missing two thousand four hundred years gone?
The secrets the Imperial high command tried to cover up were probably more than just a few corpses thrown into space…
Suddenly, Lin Xu spun around and rushed to the corner, pulling the main power switch for the lab. The expensive machines, still running, sparked and smoked as the sudden surge fried the circuits. The network connecting their terminals went dead instantly.
Lin Xu fumbled with the particle decay detector he had just used, removed the memory chip, and smashed it into pieces.
“Professor Zhou, help me take out the model machine’s memory chip. Dunk it in the sink, soak it, then smash it too.”
Zhou Pingbo’s eyesight was poor in the dark, but he quickly followed Lin Xu’s instructions and destroyed the memory chip.
“How secure are the records in your lab?”
Lin Xu couldn’t allow anyone to trace the secret medal’s test results.
“They’re top secret. Only with the emperor’s and the Supreme Military Council’s full approval can anyone view them.”
“Good.”
Bang bang—
Lin Xu snapped his head toward the lab door as someone knocked. He raised an arm, signaling Zhou Pingbo to step out of the doorway’s line of sight, then cautiously approached the door from the side and opened it. A security guard hurried in.
“Dr. Lin! Are you alright?” the guard gasped. “I saw the circuit monitor showed an issue in your lab.”
“No problem. The equipment hasn’t been used in a while and accumulated dust caused a short circuit. I’ll have someone repair it later.” Lin Xu replied flatly. The guard looked worriedly at the smoke inside the lab. “Really?”
Lin Xu hesitated, then grabbed a fire extinguisher from the corner. Foam sprayed out, covering the small smoke cloud. That multi-million star coin detector was probably ruined for good. He looked back at the guard.
“Yes, I’ll handle all follow-up issues.”
After convincing the doubtful guard to leave, Lin Xu turned to Zhou Pingbo. “I’m going to the Perseus Group headquarters on the home planet to review the detailed G398 mining plan.”
“Now? I’ll take you.”
On their way out of the museum, they bumped into Curator Zhao, who had rushed over upon hearing about the lab accident. Lin Xu tossed out, “It was my mistake that caused the equipment damage. Send the repair bill directly to me.”
Curator Zhao wanted to ask more but hadn’t gotten a word out before Lin Xu boarded Zhou Pingbo’s craft. Zhou’s two bodyguards stepped forward to block Curator Zhao from approaching.
Zhao could only shout after Lin Xu, “It’s not even quitting time yet—this counts as an early leave.”
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