SZAR Chapter 41

Pamir Star System, battlefield hospital.

The surgical lights shone harshly. Medical staff pushed treatment beds back and forth, the clatter of metal instruments mingling with the rolling of carts. The air was heavy with the smell of blood.

Nuo Wei pushed open the door to the quiet room. His face was pale, his hair loosely tied at the back, looking a bit messy in its unkempt state.

The Imperial Major General’s condition was clearly poor. He wore a loose hospital gown, and blood had seeped slightly through his undershirt, staining the fabric around his shoulder blades. He raised his eyes to the three investigators seated behind the interrogation table and gave a small nod.

“Good day, General Nuo Wei. I’m Matthew, the chief investigator for this incident,” said the older investigator, Matthew, his hair streaked with gray, wearing round spectacles. His sharp gaze swept over Nuo Wei: “Please, have a seat.”

An assistant pulled out a metal bench. Nuo Wei sat down, resting his hands on the cold armrests. Automatically, the handcuffs closed on either side, securing him to the chair. The medical staff then attached two electrode pads to his forehead, connecting them to a lie detector in the next room.

The middle-aged investigator on the right spoke: “General, thank you for cooperating with our investigation. There are some events we need to confirm with you.”

He placed his light brain on the table, opened the recording interface, and looked at Nuo Wei with a probing gaze. “As I understand it, you were raised by Admiral Erwen. After his male master passed, he was the closest person to you. But you know nothing about Erwen’s alleged treason and collusion with the enemy, correct?”

Nuo Wei’s lips were dry, his voice hoarse as he said, “He did not commit treason.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the lie detector suddenly jolted violently, emitting a shrill alarm.

The electrodes on Nuo Wei’s forehead transmitted the sudden pull, making him flinch. He quickly looked toward the machine in the adjacent room, his cyan eyes frozen on it.

The investigators exchanged a glance. The medical staff frowned, adjusting the device. After a brief flurry of activity, the staff whispered something to Matthew, who lifted his eyes: “General Nuo Wei, tell me your name.”

“Nuo Wei,” he replied.

The machine jolted again.

“The general’s mental state is unstable; the fluctuations are extreme. We cannot get an accurate reading from him,” the right-side investigator said to Matthew. “In his current mental state, the lie detector will trigger an alarm no matter what he says.”

Matthew frowned. This incident was too important, the public outraged, and the time given from above unusually tight. Without a working lie detector, it would be hard to produce a credible report.

He asked, “What if we return to the Empire and use the retroactive lie detector in the Central Interrogation Room?”

Here, on Pamir Star, the lie detector was an outdated relic, several versions behind. The Central Interrogation Room, however, was directly under the government and had the most advanced technology.

The middle-aged investigator hesitated, unsure how to respond.

Matthew: “Speak.”

The middle-aged investigator hesitated. “It’s possible, but that machine is meant for interrogating confirmed criminals. The mental burden on the subject is enormous. If it’s activated, the general’s mental state might be made even worse.”

The Central Interrogation Room is somewhat like the imperial prison in ancient China, only the highest-ranking “court offenders” are held there. Their methods are anything goes; as long as they get the information they need, the means don’t matter.

The lie detector there works the same way. Not only can it detect lies, but it can also force a subject whose mental state is chaotic to recall exactly the memories the investigators want. Even if the subject has amnesia or PTSD, the machine can make them accurately relive the moments needed for the interrogation.

And if going through it once is already painful, being forced to relive it under public scrutiny?

The middle-aged investigator exchanged a glance with Matthew and suggested, “The full sequence of events isn’t clear, and Nuo Wei is still a general. Using the central interrogation machine in this case would be somewhat reckless.”

Matthew didn’t deny it. “The matter has reached this point. We’ll proceed with what we can, but if the investigation comes up empty, and higher-ups place blame…”

He left the sentence hanging, but everyone knew what it meant: if the investigation reaches its deadline and Erwen’s alleged treason hasn’t been resolved, Nuo Wei will be in serious trouble.

Because the local lie detector failed and could not verify Nuo Wei’s words, the investigators lost interest in him, but they still ran through the required questions.

“Before this incident occurred, did you notice anything unusual about General Erwen?”

“No.”

“As far as I know, the day before the incident, General Erwen summoned you alone. He didn’t mention this matter?”

“…No.”

“You’re saying…” Matthew pushed up his glasses, his eyes showing irritation. “The commander deemed a traitor summoned his most trusted subordinate in private before the attack and said nothing?”

He deliberately stressed the words traitor, private, and most trusted.

Nuo Wei had no words to defend himself.

They asked many more questions, and he answered each one with “No,” “I don’t know,” or “I’m not sure.” His hands, cuffed tightly, clenched more and more until, in the end, he was answering mechanically.

When the last question was done, Matthew closed the light brain and the recording device. His face was long and drawn, clearly dissatisfied with the interrogation. Before leaving, he glanced back at Nuo Wei in the restraint chair and warned, “General, I really do not want the central machine used on you, but if you continue to refuse cooperation, we will have no choice.”

Nuo Wei’s expression didn’t change. “Even if you use the central machine, my answers will remain the same.”

The investigators said no more. They rose and left, the sound of their boots on the hospital tiles leaving a cold, hard echo.

Medical staff untied Nuo Wei’s restraints and helped the general back to his room, unable to resist a warning: “General, you shouldn’t treat the investigators this way. Your mental sea cannot withstand a second round of torment.”

Nuo Wei’s condition was among the most serious of all the wounded. Doctors monitored him closely every day. His mental sea was extremely unstable, with the risk of his rank continuing to drop.

The medical staff said, “You must understand, they always have ways to get you to tell the truth.”

Nuo Wei gave a faint hum in acknowledgment.

Seeing that Nuo Wei was stubborn, the staff sighed and pushed him into the room. “If you need anything, please press the call bell.”

He closed the door. The hospital on the desolate planet had been converted from a prison. Thick iron doors shut from the outside, leaving only an A4-sized window. Through the vertical bars, the gray sky of the desolate world could be seen.

Nuo Wei opened his communicator and asked, 【 Can you check if there’s any news on my light brain?】

To prevent a potentially high-risk general from contacting the outside, the military had taken Nuo Wei’s light brain, leaving him only a communicator. If he wanted to contact someone, the device would relay messages for him.

【 Hello, no messages. 】

“…”

Nuo Wei clenched the communicator. 【 Please confirm, there’s no news from my lord? 】

Before being pushed onto the examination table yesterday, Nuo Wei had used his last strength to send a message to Chu Ci. Later, in a daze, he imagined Chu Ci’s reactions: maybe confusion, maybe doubt, maybe hesitation or anger upon learning the truth, perhaps even a touch of sadness. But he had never expected that Chu Ci would simply not reply.

When he had contacted Chu Ci before, no matter how trivial the message, Chu Ci would see it immediately.

【 No, General 】 came the reply. 【 During this period, there have been messages from your comrades, but as required, I cannot forward them to you. As for your lord, his reply interface is blank. 】

【…Understood. 】

Nuo Wei sat down, saying nothing more.

The strain on his mental sea and the recent interrogation had drained his body, but the jumble of thoughts kept him from sleeping. He rested his cyan-colored eyes on the narrow sky outside the window, sitting still on the edge of the bed like a silent marble statue.

At the same time, in the wormhole docking station of the Pamir Star system, Chu Ci dragged his suitcase out of the spacecraft.

He stood on the landing platform, looking up at the sky of this desolate planet. Pamir was barely habitable; the sky was a dull gray, the same color as the runway where spacecraft glided.

He had been standing there less than a minute when a staff member jogged over: “Hello, are you Mr. Chu Ci of the Stellar Group?”

The Pamir Star system was at the very edge of the Empire’s territory; beyond it lay the battlefield. At this peak of the war, ordinary people could not enter without cause. However, Yi Xi’s Stellar Group held the rights to Pamir’s gemstone mining.

Because the group provided jobs and taxes to the Empire, their mining experts were allowed to travel even during wartime. Chu Ci greeted Secretary Lin and came under the cover of a “mining expert.”

The insect who came to meet him was from Stellar Group’s Pamir office. He shook Chu Ci’s hand politely and asked, “Would you like to rest at our office first?”

“No need.” Chu Ci moved his suitcase quickly. “Where is the hospital?”

He had rushed across the dust-strewn planet for a reason, and it wasn’t to change resting spots.

“Uh… it’s about 200 kilometers southeast of here, but it’s under martial law, surrounded by the military. You may not be able to get in.”

Chu Ci didn’t want to reveal his identity as a male zerg. This clerk didn’t know; he only knew that the visiting expert had relatives in the hospital and was there to check on them, not for mining.

“If you need, we can submit an application, but there are too many wounded right now and staff are stretched thin. The request may be delayed, estimated wait is about half a month…”

Male zergs always compete to be first in line, whether for meals or travel, but the military has no such privilege for visiting the wounded, because no male would ever go visit a sick female. Setting up such a system is completely pointless.

In other words, even Chu Ci, going through official channels, would need at least half a month.

Half a month, who knew what state Nuo Wei’s mental sea would be in by then.

Chu Ci hoisted his suitcase and climbed into the spacecraft. “No need. We’ll go directly.”

The clerk’s face twisted with frustration.

He wanted to reason with Chu Ci, but the “mining expert” looked far too cold. Though good-looking, he radiated a force that kept everyone at a distance. The clerk swallowed his warning, silently deciding to at least get Chu Ci to the hospital entrance, show him the military’s perimeter, and then reconsider.

The hospital on the desolate planet was a small square building, standing quietly in the wilderness. Its tiny, crowded windows looked like sniper posts from an action movie or a cramped beehive.

In front of the hospital was a checkpoint, surrounded in layers of military females, three deep inside, three outside. Chu Ci sat in the rear seat of the spacecraft while the clerk in front gripped the controls, a cold sweat on his forehead. “Sir, ahead is the military zone. If we go straight through, we could be caught and detained.”

He wanted Chu Ci to reconsider, but Chu Ci took the controls. “Get out. I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

The clerk unbuckled and handed over the spacecraft. He opened his mouth to say more, but Chu Ci floored it, heading straight for the main gate.

Chu Ci was actually a gentle driver, at least in his previous human life. He followed rules, had no road rage, never raced. But since coming to the zerg world and following the fool that is Nuo Wei, driving 180 mph daily felt slow to him; he’d gotten used to it.

Others, however, were not used to it. The clerk stood by the roadside, mouth agape in a perfect “O.”

This new mining expert really did operate in a wildly different style.

The spacecraft skidded to a stop at the checkpoint. Before Chu Ci could say a word, the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead.

A few patrolling military females surrounded the craft. They raised their eyebrows. “Sir, the crime of trespassing isn’t light. This is a restricted military zone.”

Not all military females were as composed and courteous as Nuo Wei. These patrollers were low-ranking, reserve troops unfit for the battlefield, many were streetwise ruffians who had skipped academic lessons. They laughed and looked at Chu Ci: “If you don’t have an excuse that can be accepted, you might as well spend the rest of your life in prison.”

“Not bad-looking either. There are plenty of female–female couples in prison. Maybe you should consider it,” one of them joked.

As they spoke, one reached for the car door to pull Chu Ci out and cuff him, but the moment their hand touched his shoulder, Chu Ci activated the ID on his light brain.

Holding it in one hand, he displayed the front of the credentials. “Please think carefully before you speak.”

His face was as cold as still water, expression sharp enough to flake off. The patrollers felt an inexplicable pressure from him and instinctively stepped back half a pace.

Chu Ci held the ID with one hand: “I am an A-rank male zerg, Nuo Wei’s male lord. I am now requesting permission to enter the hospital to visit my female.”

The military females were speechless.

Amid their shock and confusion, Chu Ci asked coldly, “Is this an acceptable excuse?”