Xyrin Empire
Chapter 589 Private Piracy Group

Chapter 589: Chapter 589 Private Piracy Group

A spaceship, measuring no more than five hundred meters in length—while such a craft thrown onto Earth would certainly be regarded as unattainably advanced alien technology, as the biggest spacecraft humans have crafted still revolve around Earth like mere tin cans, in the vast, unpredictable expanse of space, among neighboring star-system civilizations, such a vessel appearing alone would be no different than a mere rowboat.

It’s worth noting that due to the peculiarities of the space environment, spaceships operating on long-duration missions in space must be equipped with a self-sustaining ecological system. Depending on the race, the requirements for these ecosystems might vary, but simulating an entire planet’s environment in space is undeniably a cumbersome task. The spaceship currently docked must possess deep space voyaging capacity, hence it definitely carries such a device, and I am extremely curious as to how such a contraption is squeezed into that mere five-hundred-meter-long ship...

Moreover, leading a vast number of people invisibly and audaciously spying on others is such a thrilling feeling.

The individuals who landed on the landing platform, of course, could not know that beneath their spaceship hundreds of eyes were scrutinizing and sneering at their ragged vessel, nor could they sense that a spacecraft far more formidable than their own was parked next to them, scanning them from top to bottom. They had already begun their operations.

After the spaceship had stabilized, a hatch over ten meters wide opened on its mid-section side, and a dirty loading ramp protruded from the main door, slowly extending onto the platform. When it was halfway extended, it was obviously stuck, making us sweat as we saw two brawny men, large as oxen, clad in space combat suits appear above the ramp, swinging two huge sledgehamers at the connection between the ramp and the hull, hitting it hard twice before the ramp fully lowered.

"Suddenly, I feel like going over to give them a hand..."

Altoria’s hair spun around, and she spoke somewhat conflictedly.

At that moment, several vehicles that appeared to be for construction purposes descended from the spaceship’s transportation tunnel, and after having looked at that beat-up old ship for so long, those pristine space construction vehicles were indeed a sight for sore eyes.

"What are they up to? An exploration team?" Big Sister mused perplexedly, watching them park the construction vehicles at the junction between the landing platform and the assemblage platform and start assembling some bizarre mechanical devices on the spot—it looked as though they were scanning something.

At that moment, Visca finally remembered to route the intercepted communication signals into the public channel, and suddenly, we could hear the conversations between those people in our minds.

"...Finally found it, this asteroid belt is really desolate."

It was a rugged male voice that Visca marked, indicating that it came from one of the robust men who had been swinging the hammer at the loading ramp. As his voice faded, another person replied, "If it weren’t desolate, we wouldn’t be able to rob it, Big Sister is really efficient with intel, we might just make a big score this time, hahaha..."

"But really, I’ve never seen a base like this before, I don’t even know what force built it; it looks pretty advanced."

"Forget it, it must be from the Consortium, they’ve wanted to expand their territory during this chaotic cycle. Looks like some new unfortunate souls have come to this universe, just to be picked up by the Consortium’s people—hey! Move faster with those engineering vehicles! Even though Big Sister said this place was abandoned, we’d be in big trouble if another Private Piracy Group comes along. And who knows? Maybe the people from the Administrative Star know about this place too, we can’t stand against a major power like that!"

"You move it too," another man jumped off the loading ramp, directing a group of robotic construction machinery that had just descended from the spaceship, "Start by taking apart the things that look valuable and transport them to the ship. Leave that shiny building alone for now, we’ll let the ’Doctor’ check it first, there might be some treasures inside. Stuff dismantled from such an advanced base can definitely fetch a high price on the black market!"

"And no one think about keeping secrets! The guy who last smuggled a navigation device is still getting whipped at the mines. If you think that feels cozy, go ahead and try it! Before we set off, Big Sister said everyone would get triple shares from the sales, but if anyone hides anything and our people spot it on the black market, they’ll be sent to toil in the Red Stone Star mines for ten years!"

After listening for half a day, I finally had a rough idea of who these people were.

Pirates... no, even less than pirates, probably not even qualified as highway robbers. They called themselves a private piracy group, but really... they were more like scavenging vultures.

Scattered and unorganized armed forces, weak yet incredibly cunning, they survived in this chaotic world by picking up remnants of battlefields and collecting the mystical technologies to sell on the black market. Sometimes they might even indulge in more daring enterprises like smuggling, dealing in intelligence, or following some army to salvage debris—but that was pretty much the extent of their capabilities.

That was the private piracy group, or more bluntly put, scrap collectors.

It didn’t seem odd for groups like this to emerge in such a messed-up world. There were always opportunities to create battlefield garbage, from wrecked warships and destroyed bases to space stations and various battlefield relics that kept on arising all the time. A lot of items salvaged from these could fetch a good price on the black market—don’t think wreckage carried no value. In a world constantly seeing new races stumble in, technology was blooming everywhere. With almost no environment conducive to developing new technologies, acquiring others’ ready-made technology to upgrade one’s forces was a great strategy for many powers. Although different systems of technology conflicted, this world was full of "talents" capable of merging disparate technologies, as evidenced by the various modified, patchwork spaceships flying around here.

From that perspective, the abandoned bases left by the Protos Vanguard must have been a real treasure trove for them, representing brand-new technology.

Even the "national government" here probably purchased battlefield relics from these folks, right?

Having dealt with official powerhouses like the Gotaque Kingdom Army until now, I knew nothing about these kinds of small groups. Seeing them now, I wasn’t sure what level they were compared to their "peers," but I guessed even the biggest "private piracy group" was nothing more than a slightly larger scrap recycling operation. Scavenging fragments from battlefields to sell on the black market might bring higher income than that of an average citizen, but it surely wasn’t as profitable as fighting on the frontline over territorial interests, and the risk was no less significant. Take this recently abandoned base that had been vacated just a dozen hours ago—these guys daring to visit with their garbage ship to collect treasures were risking big time.

Whether it’s the power that owned the base, the army that attacked here, or some other "government army" that wanted to loot in the chaos (from what that Big Man in armor said, even the official government forces with "sovereignty" sometimes stooped to salvage wreckage themselves), any party could easily destroy their junk-looking spaceship, all living at the bottom of society.

Of course, without a doubt, if they were given enough weapons and equipment, these seeming small-time scrap workers were always ready to transform into bloodthirsty interstellar pirates. This world was brutishly fierce; even the kids here were born with triangular bayonets in their mouths—how badass is that?

Not being the attacking enemy soldiers, nor the informed regular army, this band of scavengers suddenly made us lose interest, and Visca started pondering whether we should just wipe them out. Of course, this reckless suggestion was jointly vetoed by me and Big Sister.

"Boss! There’s nothing up ahead!"

Just then, another voice echoed through the common listening channel, a towering maintenance robot walked over from the storage area, clutching something familiar-looking in its arms—a bucket-shaped machine... ah, it was that probe that had sprayed Visca’s face black, which the little girl had kicked away, sending it flying for several kilometers straight into a storage warehouse. It seemed this was the only find for this maintenance robot, while the two unfortunate souls trailing behind came back empty-handed.

"Is this it?" The burly man, known as the boss, wore a space mask hiding his expression, but his tone was clearly furious, "What is this? It looks like an incomplete engine. You three turned everything upside down and this is all you found?"

"It’s been cleaned out," the voice of the robot’s pilot sounded particularly aggrieved, "We combed through several warehouses—besides the walls and lighting facilities, there was nothing, just grooves on the walls where embedded equipment had been removed, not even a single screw left on the floor..."

Damn, living so meticulously—those Protos Vanguard commanders were really thorough, must have been forced by the reconstruction in Kepulu, right?

"Oh my god, isn’t that being too thrifty?" Just like my grumbling, it seemed that the burly guy who appeared to be a small boss couldn’t help but smack his lips, "Feels even thriftier than us, eh?"

"Boss! Found nothing over here!"

At that moment, the other few robotic squads also returned empty-handed. These robots, looking as if they had been stripped of their armor plates and left with just their skeletal frames, were clearly designed for this kind of "exploration duty." Although not very tall, they possessed mechanical arms almost as long as their entire body height. However, even the most professional scavengers couldn’t find treasures in a deserted base that had been scraped clean—among the twelve robots, only two held two or three unidentifiable mechanical components in their arms; the rest came back empty-handed.

They probably returned so quickly after seeing those buildings stripped bare, even down to the screws, and they couldn’t help but exclaim again, "Man, that’s really being overly thrifty..."

"Not a single thing?!" Another Big Man, who was instructing a construction vehicle preparing to transport materials from the base, suddenly realized he might not need to be busy anymore and immediately yelled, "Does that mean we came here for nothing today?"

"No way, Ham, we can’t just go back like this. The Boss would shoot us dead in a heartbeat," said the Big Man leading the robots, waving his hand as if he had made up his mind. "Send down the combat mechas! Fire the laser cannons, and shatter these buildings. There must be some unremovable building energy components or something inside. Even though no one wants them on the black market, it’s good to have more stuff in hand when we return. We can just claim it’s all new technology, and us brutes couldn’t tell what was valuable so we brought it all back... Yes, that’s the plan, hey you there, go bring down the ’Doctor.’ If we want to avoid a whipping when we get back, we’re relying on that one smart guy..."

But before he could finish, he was interrupted by a sudden voice in the radio: "Hey, if we’re going to this extent, might as well start taking action."

"Who? Who is messing with this frequency?!"

There was no answer, only a crackle of static over the communication line.

"Beck! Who are you talking to?"

I had just scared the other party a bit when I was suddenly stunned by his name—Beck? There’s another one named Ham, and they’re brothers... These guys are here to lighten the mood, right?

"Damn, I might have misheard. I just heard someone talking to themselves on the radio, using the Boss’s personal frequency..."

"Bullshit," the person previously called Ham waved his hand dismissively, "Why would the Boss need you at this time... Whoa!"

"What’s wrong... Hey!" Beck was about to turn around to see what happened to his brother when he saw a giant the size of a bull, wearing a space combat suit, flying sideways towards him; he didn’t even have the time to react before he and Ham ended up tumbling together.

"What happened?! Ham, what the hell kind of move was that?!"

"There’s... something strange about this base! I just saw a translucent little girl appear in front of me, and then I was suddenly flying towards it!"

"Note from the narrator: Visca will throw anything standing in front of her and taller than herself if they’re not on her side. Of course, if her big sister is present, the two little rascals will throw you in opposite directions."

Uncle B was deeply impressed by this.

"Contract the formation! Bring back the engineering vehicles! Get the combat mechas in place—there’s something fishy about this place!"

Big Man, named Beck, was so spooked by two consecutive supernatural events that he shuddered all over and loudly declared a switch to defensive formations. The private piracy group, who had been trying to pry some cables off the base’s steel beams, didn’t understand what was happening but instantly obeyed the order to rally. Several engineering vehicles, about a dozen engineering robots, and another dozen mixed soldiers suited up in space combat gear and carrying standardized firearms quickly formed a circle, creating a flawed "defense line."

We initially thought of quickly driving these fellows away and being done with it, but now, everyone, including Visca, seemed to have developed a taste for mischief and intended to thoroughly mess with this group of privateers who were on the verge of firing cannons and blowing up the base. Watching them superstitiously gathering in a circle, several Imperial Leaders and a bunch of unscrupulous Heroic Spirits immediately started to sneer as they surrounded them.

"Bro, why do I feel a bit cold..."

Ham, the strapping man who seemed to be the younger brother in this duo, though as burly as an ox, paradoxically wasn’t very brave—well, it might also be because of Visca’s astonishingly supernatural judo throw earlier, which made his voice quiver.

"Don’t scare yourself; it might just be an overpressure caused during the jump earlier. We might all be hallucinating. Everyone, stay close; don’t move... Damn, I knew that crappy jump engine should have been thoroughly repaired earlier... Hey, the combat mechas are finally here after all that dawdling!"

Descending from the spaceship’s loading ramp was what the other party referred to as combat mechas. Well, to put it mildly, five units, somewhat resembling Gundams, just baffled me on the spot.

...turns out Red You Three really do exist in the world.

"Mecha, huh? I once dreamt of piloting a Gundam," watching those five nearly twenty-meter-tall iron giants nimbly jumping off the ship and running toward us, I couldn’t help but shrug my shoulders, "but now, that dream has shattered."

Despite their intimidating appearance, these things were actually quite average in combat in civilizations above the Constant Star Level. Space warships capable of deep space operations often abounded in energy, which was the least of their concerns; at the same technological level, such warships’ main reactors could be hundreds of times the overall volume of combat mechas, with standard output thousands or even tens of thousands times greater. Single combat mechas, limited by their equipment capacity, could hardly have a technological advantage over similarly technologically advanced warship fleets.

The logic was simple: if a single soldier-operated robot could use a proton rifle, why wouldn’t the opposing warships install two thousand proton cannons? If soldiers were wearing armor, presumably, the troop transports wouldn’t still be made of wood, right? Balanced technology meant all units had to evolve synchronously—the agile Gundam couldn’t dodge even more agile turrets, because angular momentum acceleration technology (the key to turret inertia-less rotation) was much easier to develop than reaction force braking technology (main method for combat mechas in space to change attitude).

However, the above only applied to exceptional civilizations like the Xyrin People; combat mechas still held a significant market in "Low-level Civilizations." They might be powerless against space battleship clusters, but their advantages in ground conflicts and localized warfare were immense. Their armor could withstand most atmospheric weapons, and their versatile movement made it tough for most ground artillery to hit their critical points; their firepower far surpassed any ground force—again, excluding the extraordinary Xyrin.

These privateers could actually afford combat mechas, so they weren’t as financially desperate as we initially thought.

The newly joined combat mechas in the defense circle didn’t know what had happened. Holding giant laser rifles, their aimless pointing around exhibited human peculiarity—a special sense called Sixth Sense, which puzzled even Sandora—and currently, this Sixth Sense made the privateers tremble in fear, due to the multitude of unprincipled gazes surrounding them from both close by and afar.

Then, as bad luck would have it, one of the unfortunate combat mechas took a few steps to the side, instantly covering a distance of over ten meters, and stood in front of Visca. (To be continued, if you want to know what happens next, please visit www.qidian.com. More Chapters are available, support the author, support genuine reading!)