Chapter 320 – The Hidden Shadow

Chapter 320 The Hidden Shadow

Belazov had completed his inspection of Dagger Island and his supervision of the research, and now it was time for the military representative to leave.

Near the trestle bridge in the harbor of Dagger Island’s bay area, Prof. Melson, who had personally come to see him off, raised his head and looked at the “Sea Petrel”, which was being prepared for departure.

Sailors were boarding the ship, port authorities were checking procedures, and clergymen clad in robes and carrying incense burners in their hands were walking around the cables, gently shaking the incense in their hands as they prayed for the mechanical parts of the ship.

It was a beautiful day to set sail.

Standing on the dock, watching sailor after sailor return to the Sea Petrel, Belazov turned back to Professor Myerson and said, “Professor, I’m impressed with your research work, but I still need to give a word of caution – the project on this side of the Dagger Isle is progressing slowly, and there are already some on the side of the city-state who can’t sit still. ”

“The orders I received were to figure out the various properties of that submersible under the premise of safety, to try and decipher its material composition, and to try and figure out the principles of its emergence at the next stage,” the old professor sounded calm, “Right now we’re moving forward according to the schedule, and if the bigwigs over at the government office really have an idea, they could instead try to figure out those blueprints left behind by the Frost Queen to build Submersible Four or even Five – it’s much more convenient to send someone straight down there than to scrape up samples every day while we’re in the lab.”

“They’re not going to like that reply from you – but I’ll be happy to pass it on for you,” General Belazov grinned, “They’re not going to have the guts to build a submersible, and it’s going to make their faces even better. ”

Prof. Myerson shrugged, and then after a moment of silence, said in a somewhat mixed tone, “Joking as it is, to be honest, I’m also rather worried about the progress of this thing.”

Belazov didn’t say anything, but just calmly looked at this old professor who had experienced the “Queen’s Period”.

“Scraping samples and analyzing physical and chemical properties day after day is certainly an essential part of the formal research process, but as you can see, we can only analyze a limited amount of things from those samples,” the old professor sighed, “Even if we do open the hatch one day, I’m afraid that we won’t be able to get any more secrets out of the submarine. more secrets from the submersible – the real secrets aren’t here, General, you know what I mean.”

“…… below a thousand meters, Professor, your idea is a bit dangerous.”

Myerson sighed, “I would have thought that a soldier like you would be more inclined to those dangerous ideas than a scholar like me.”

“My duty is to protect the security of the city-state, and that mission makes me more inclined to a cautious and conservative course of action,” Belazov said lightly, “So, you’re actually interested in rebooting …… those ‘diving equipment’?”

“You’d actually prefer to say ‘reboot the submarine program’, wouldn’t you?” The old professor laughed a little and shook his head, “Don’t worry, I’m not reckless enough to do that, it’s just that there’s an inescapable fact here – the key to the whole thing is under deep water, and a replica of a diving bell sitting in a lab won’t solve any of the puzzles, so we should probably really think about the ‘reserve program’ now – not necessarily active diving, but in case a ninth or even tenth replica does surface, we should at least have some means of dealing with it.”

“…… I’ll pass on your suggestion to the Council of State,” Belazov mused briefly, exhaling softly, “And until a definitive order is issued, the program on this side of the chamber proceeds as normal. ”

The old professor nodded, “Many thanks.”

The Petrel left.

The steam-powered fast ship split the gentle waves, leaving a beautiful wake that kept spreading out in the infinite sea, and the steep and winding coast of Dagger Island slowly faded away in the field of vision, and a little bit disappeared into the depths of the mist that was common in the northern sea.

Belazov on deck withdrew his eyes from looking toward the island and turned in the direction of the captain’s cabin.

Dagger Island wasn’t far from Frostbite, but it was still a few hours’ sail away, and during the tedious journey he was going to organize his thoughts and think about what he should report to the administrators of the city-state about Submarine Three – and how he should bring up the advice that Professor Myerson had given at the end of the day.

The old case of the Submarine Project …… from half a century ago had simply left too far-reaching and horrifying an impact that it had gradually turned into an unthinking taboo, but now that new replicas had begun to rise from the depths, I was afraid that it really was time to take a bit of a more proactive approach to dealing with the situation.

A sailor waited near the captain’s cabin and reported to the Admiral with a nod of his head, “The steam core is functioning normally, we’ll be arriving at the Frost One port in four hours.”

Belazov glanced at the somewhat unfamiliar sailor and nodded gently, “I need to rest for a while, don’t come and disturb me if there’s nothing going on.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Belazov returned to the captain’s cabin and sat down at his desk, listening to the low, slow mechanical sounds coming from deep within the floor beneath his feet and breathing a soft sigh of relief.

Soon it would be time to return to the home island.

He settled down and casually opened the desk drawer, removing the handwritten notes he had placed in the drawer’s hidden compartment ahead of time.

There was nothing unusual about this trip to Dagger Island, and the return journey was smooth, but some procedural things still couldn’t be omitted; this was an order and a duty.

After opening the handwritten note, the first sentence on it came into view:

“Even if everything is normal, one must confirm one’s sanity and judgment, and even if there is nothing suspicious around, one must verify the following”

Belazov turned the pages of the book and performed a series of operations with extreme skill.

The sound of turning the pages resounded continuously in the room –

“You are a left sharpshooter, now confirm this ……”

“Recall a color and subsequently turn to the next page …… should be blue or black.”

“Keyword, dagger, perform a visualization to confirm if the picture in your mind matches the picture on the next page.”

“Your name, Belazov, try to spell it out in the margins of the next page.”

“For this departure, the entourage has been streamlined, and there are and will be only thirty-two people on board – including yourself. If there is any significant deviation in personnel, perform a roll call immediately.” “The second-in-command brought on this occasion is Benjamin Yorton, who has a burn scar near his right eye.”

Belazov flipped through the pages as he performed a simple recall confirmation or subliminal repetition, but suddenly, his movements stopped.

His eyes fell on the last sentence of the handwritten note on this page.

“A burn scar near the right eye ……” Belazov repeated the sentence silently, an inexplicable suspicion floating in his mind.

Right eye?

He slowly closed the handwritten note and placed it back into the hidden compartment, rising with a calm expression and pushing open the door to the captain’s cabin.

“Benjamin!” He called out the mate’s name.

A middle-aged officer quickly pushed his way out of a nearby room and came to Belazov.

“General?”

Belazov looked at Benjamin’s face.

Right in the center of the face was his eye, one and only one.

A vague sense of dissonance pulsed through his mind, and Belazov’s reason told himself that something seemed wrong with what he was seeing, yet a hazy curtain seemed to envelop his thoughts, and he had no idea what was wrong, and it all made perfect sense to him.

This weak deviation of consciousness gradually made the general’s heart grow more and more alert, he stared at Benjamin for a long time, trying hard to find the source of the sense of dissonance in his heart, until the voice of his adjutant once again reached his ears, “General? What’s wrong?”

“…… Benjamin, how many eyes should a person have?” Belazov asked suddenly.

The adjutant suddenly froze, as if he had fallen into a mind blank before this question, and seeing this, Belazov immediately spoke, “Forget about the question, it was just a casual question – you go back to your room and rest, I’m going to take a look down there.”

The adjutant blinked, and although puzzled, he nodded, “Yes, General.”

The one-eyed human named Benjamin returned to the room, looking nothing out of the ordinary, and Belazov looked at the other’s back, first sighing in relief, then turning around and darting towards the end of the corridor.

He knew that he had still been a bit reckless just now – he shouldn’t have asked such an odd question to someone who seemed a bit out of place in a situation where suspicions had already been aroused, even if the other party was one of his most trusted lieutenants.

But without the questioning just now, it was not like he could confirm whether the weirdness he vaguely perceived really existed.

Now, he confirmed it.

The ship is not quite right, there are some …… hidden dangerous things on board.

He darted through the corridors to the sailor’s mess hall.

The cafeteria was full of sailors, and the soldiers looked with some dismay and nervousness at the sudden appearance of the general.

Belazov’s eyes swept over everyone here, then waved a hand at them and darted off to the bridge again.

It was full of people here as well.

There were many people on the deck as well.

The Petrel was lean this time, with thirty-two men and only thirty-two men at the time of departure.

The numbers were wrong, very, very wrong.

And yet the thought of “all is well” continued to jump around in the mind, as if to counteract the obvious fact that it was not.

Belazov stood on the stairs leading to the mechanical bay, gazing down the ramp with a calm expression.

The torn consciousness was fighting against it, but he no longer needed to care about the exact details of the difference between the two consciousnesses.

There were still more than two hours to go before arriving at Frostbourne Island.

The ship, was heading straight towards the city-state.

He took a soft breath and stepped towards the deepest mechanical compartment of this ship.

(End of chapter)