The transport ship glided smoothly through outer space, and Yang Ming snored in the pilot’s seat.
Lyu’s projection appeared and disappeared at intervals, seemingly waiting for Yang Ming to wake up so he could report some unimportant news.
Not until the transport ship entered Yang Ming’s residence in the Wind territory—part of the medium-sized transport ships belonging to the Fourth Fleet composite formation—did Lyu speak to wake Yang Ming.
Yang Ming opened his eyes, "How long did I sleep? Is there any news about Po Suo?"
"Not yet," Lyu said softly, "We have done our best to set up monitoring in that airspace, using mining ships to form an alert network. There’s a high probability we can detect Po Suo once she appears."
"She should have already regained her strength."
Yang Ming rubbed his eyes and pulled himself together,
"Tell the little ones from Dark Star to stay prepared. One day when soldiers who have been nurtured are needed for war, they must not mess up at the critical moment."
"Okay, boss, you should rest well."
Yang Ming yawned, quickly left the outer cabin of the transport ship, and walked along the corridor.
Several maid robots he encountered on the way bowed to Yang Ming, within them housed Mechanical Thought Bodies from Dark Star.
He opened a heavy security door, passing through a tastefully decorated living and dining area with several floor-to-ceiling windows. Yang Ming headed straight for his big bed, hastily showered, and fell asleep.
Apart from Yang Ming, there was only one other human on the ship.
Soon, a frail figure peeked in from the other side of the bedroom entrance. Seeing Yang Ming, a small smile appeared on her otherwise expressionless face.
She then quietly closed the bedroom door and passed through winding corridors, hurriedly returning to her laboratory.
In the lab, a dozen silver-white machines moved about, and the dissected body of a Second Rank was fixed on the operating table.
With the help of the mechanical guards, Hera donned a hazmat suit, picked up a laser scalpel, and continued the operation she had earlier paused.
Top secret meeting of senior agents of the New Federation CIA.
A deputy director who had been in office for two and a half years pounded the desk with his fist to express his anger and frustration.
"This is all bullshit! Is your brain full of bullshit!"
"What is this, everyone? This is your incompetence, being suppressed by the Sherman Empire’s intelligence department! Our country is militarily outmatched by the Sherman Empire, which is normal, it’s been around for tens of thousands of years, and there’s a certain generational gap in our military strength, but now!"
"Our proud intelligence system has been turned to shit by the opposition! Damn it! Are you all useless?"
Over a dozen men and women connected via video remained silent.
Speaking of which, White Ghost causing trouble in the New Federation should be the jurisdiction of the FBI; they in the CIA only participated in a few coordination actions.
This wasn’t even in their business scope.
In a corner of the video projection, a gray-haired woman raised her hand to signal.
"Deputy, if there’s really no way out, I suggest a talent, he has helped me a lot in many cases, and he has confided in me that he might have a way to deal with White Ghost."
"A talent?" The deputy director frowned deeply, "Who are you talking about? You’d better not keep me in suspense at a time ."
"Of course," the agent aunt quickly displayed a series of data.
A photo of a middle-aged man in his forties appeared on the meeting’s shared screen, along with a string of his information.
The youngest senator in nearly thirty years.
A rising star of the Liberal Party.
"Isn’t this that political rising star?" The deputy director murmured, frowning.
"We might as well listen to his plan," the agent aunt suggested, "He’s quite interested in collaborating with us, and he’s also a promising political star."
The deputy director thought for a few seconds, "Give me his contact information."