Starting from the Planetary Governor - Chapter 802

Chapter 796: Mortal’s Solution

The overall situation in the Fox Moon Star Region is quite good.

After 90% of the worlds reestablished contact with the star region government, the functioning government agencies quickly conducted statistics and assessments, revealing that the vast majority of worlds have sufficient capacity to resolve their planetary problems.

It’s certainly impossible for social functioning and people’s lives to remain unaffected. But at least, overall, there aren’t major problems. Even if there are, they’re being gradually resolved.

On many planets, internal trade, industrial and agricultural production are rapidly recovering. This is reflected in government reports: these indicators, after experiencing a downward dip following the disaster, have quickly rebounded.

However, six worlds face significant challenges. While they may eventually be able to resolve their problems on their own, it may be a long and arduous process, and the cost could be severe.

After weighing the pros and cons, Jason Morgan decided to mobilize as many resources from the star region government as possible to help them overcome their difficulties.

Under normal circumstances, these problems aren’t serious, merely crises affecting a few planets. For a strong star region government, as long as they’re committed, they can be resolved.

But isn’t there something wrong with the Star Tunnel now? Forcing its way through—the fate of the ship that had previously entered the Starport was still fresh in the minds of those who witnessed it.

No one wanted to end up like that.

But Jason Morgan made the final decision: they couldn’t just sit there and wait. If they had to try, they had to

try. Of course, not recklessly.

People were valuable, ships were valuable.

They had to find a way to minimize the cost.

Jason Morgan silently stared at the Star Tunnel model suspended in the center of the tactical round table. The once stable, pale blue light now rippled with a sickly pink-purple hue.

“It should have already begun…”

he thought, and soon, word arrived:

“By the God of All Machines and the Law of Iron, the first set of test subjects is ready. Approval requested.”

“Approved.”

Far away at the Star Transit Point in the Snow Fox Galaxy, a fleet of more than a dozen starships stood ready.

These starships, of course, weren’t warships. The Alliance’s complete warships were all in the Alliance Navy. The Snow Fox starport is indeed considered one of the Alliance Navy’s naval bases, but the navy wasn’t there when the Cataclysm struck.

Currently, the only vessels on Snow Fox are ordinary merchant ships, at most having undergone some weaponization.

However, they aren’t needed; this isn’t a war.

In fact, the core of this mission is the completely incapable warship, the “Big Belly.”

A metallic roar echoed from the dome within the “Big Belly” as twelve probes launched into the air, leaving the hull and venturing outward.

Their hulls were engraved with triple exorcism runes, and their navigation cores were immersed in liquid silver soaked in holy oil.

These probes moved through space to the two ships that would serve as the primary exploration force and then secured themselves.

Both exploration vessels were Voyager-class, the lowest class capable of traversing the Astral Tunnel.

As the first probe, accompanying the Voyager, entered the Astral Tunnel, the holographic image suddenly distorted into a screaming human face.

“Mass projector overload!” sparked the tech-priest’s mechanical eye. “Detector 3 is sending back unusual light…”

Before he could finish his words, a thick black liquid suddenly gushed out of the surveillance screen.

The vigilant guards nearby immediately raised their flamethrowers, but the liquid solidified into the characters of “Ode to the Father” upon contact with the air.

The flames erupted, charring the entire screen and the infected data stream.

Jason Morgan, back in the starport, heard the firsthand intelligence from the front lines, and his eyes twitched.

He asked, “Is this to be expected?”

“Yes,”

Morgan heard the sound of a lullaby as the tech-priest relayed these words.

“…Is this normal?”

“It’s also in our contingency plan. Wait a moment, the priest is dealing with a technician who is writing mathematical formulas on the console with his eyeballs… Okay.”

Jason Morgan still found it weird.

But this is the way and method of doing tests.

After a standard Terran day, Morgan connected to the front-line communication again.

“What’s the situation?” He asked impatiently.

“There is cognitive pollution in the navigation data.” The mechanical priest said, “We failed this time, and we can prepare for the next time.”

Morgan rubbed his eyes.

He had long expected that things would not be so simple, but didn’t he also hold out hope?

The loss of the two travelers was one thing, adding up to only a few million tax coins, not an unaffordable loss. However, the voluntary and courageous testers were precious talents.

However, when he made a decision, someone next to him spoke.

It was his psychic advisor.

“No, wait… check the secondary signal on Channel 7—although the primary sensors haven’t worked, the holy silver has left traces in the warp.”

He processed everything on the interface, and on the holographic star map before Jason Morgan, a faint silver line snaked through the pink-purple torrent.

“Looks like there’s hope,” Jason Morgan said with relief. “Be patient… At their average speed, they should reach the other side of the astral tunnel in four or five days at most. Let’s see if there’s any news by then.”

For several days, they watched the faint silver line, appearing and disappearing through the torrent.

Four days later, the signal was reacquired. The last of the twelve probes remained faithfully transmitting back.

From its perspective, it could see the hulls of the two travelers, throbbing with blood vessels.

When they attempted to contact the two travelers, the people inside claimed that they had indeed encountered many strange things during the legend, but with the help of the ships’ choirs, the problems were generally manageable. During their voyage, they continuously cleansed the vessel of the effects of evil, corruption, and mutation, finally completing their mission successfully.

This news was heartening.

But now was not the time to let down our guard.

The mutants, previously reduced to transparent jelly, had no issues with their self-awareness.

They opened the ship’s hatch and sent a probe inside for a thorough inspection.

Indeed, everything was as they’d described.

The representative of the Protestant priests excitedly told Jason Morgan, “The choir worked! This is a reusable method!”

The frontline tech-priest remarked, “It must be our modified astral shield field that’s working.”

The psychic advisor said, “The formations on the shield field installation are the key.”

Everyone was vying for credit, but Jason Morgan didn’t care.

“Everyone gets credit!” he continued. “But this isn’t the end. The risks of the shuttle remain high, and the successful shuttle was only with the smallest vessel; larger ships haven’t passed testing yet. All methods must be further optimized, and everyone needs to work together!”

“Yes!”

As everyone went about their work, Jason Morgan glanced back at the probe feed from the front.

The mutated tissue on the ship’s hull was glaring, making him realize clearly that this level of safety was only a temporary compromise—like bandaging a festering wound.

But under the shadow of the Doomsday Clock, this was the best solution mortals could achieve.

(End of this chapter)