Chapter 59
Chapter 59
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Shadows of Command
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Kaleyan turned around, his expression almost guarded. "What gives you the right to say that?"
Gavin nearly blurted out that his eyes had given away the truth... but even he got a little jolt from the thought before it left his mouth. Instead, he said, "No reason. Just a hunch. Deep down, you think I'm Celia, don't you?"
Kaleyan turned fully to face him and fell silent for a long, long time. Just as Gavin thought he wouldn't respond, Kaleyan countered with a question of his own. "What do you think? Do you think you're Celia?"
Gavin couldn't help but chuckle. "What does it matter? Celia isn't some title—it's just one chapter in a man's life. Whether I have that chapter or not won't change who I am now. Does it mean I can't go on living without it?"
He paused, then added, "People always chase self-understanding, but if you don't know, you don't know. You think I'm begging you to tell me?"
Kaleyan stood stunned for a few seconds before giving a wry smile. "That's classic Celia talk..."
He was about to say more when a knock echoed through the lab. A researcher called from outside the door. "All done in there, Major General Kaleyan?"
Kaleyan whipped around, but before he could stop it, the door slid open. The researcher took one look at Gavin and laughed. "Not yet?"
Kaleyan glanced back and saw Gavin standing there, face blank, identical to test subject GTX0012.
"No... not yet." Kaleyan let out a quiet sigh of relief and made up an excuse. "Blood pressure might be a bit low. We'll do it in a couple days. What are you here for?"
"We'd better hurry, then. We'll reach Mitara Star tomorrow afternoon. But if we're skipping the catalyst shot for now, can the research team draw 400CC of blood from the test subject? We need to prep new test materials—"
Kaleyan cut him off without hesitation. "No!"
The words had barely left his mouth when he felt Gavin's gaze land on his back.
This flat refusal had definitely betrayed his real thoughts, but it was too late to take it back. Kaleyan pretended not to notice and told the researcher, "Blood pressure's already low—no need for blood draws or tests yet. That scrap with the Bailu was rough anyway. How about I take him to rest first? We can handle everything tomorrow afternoon."
The researcher looked baffled but nodded obediently after a moment. "Alright, then. We'll go clean the cockpit..."
The real test subject was hiding in the cockpit right now! Kaleyan nearly lost it and insisted, "I'll handle that too! I'll drop him off at his room first, then head to the mech bay. You guys take the rest of the day off!"
The researcher was stunned. *Major General Kaleyan this diligent today? He usually holes up like a lazy bug to nap. Is it that marshal's face firing him up?*
Kaleyan, brimming with unwanted energy, had no way to vent. He quickly led Gavin out of the lab, feeling like he was carrying a live bomb. Along the way, they passed plenty of crew members, all craning their necks curiously. Some even looped back multiple times, pretending it was casual, their stares sweeping over Gavin's face like spotlights. The pressure on Kaleyan was immense.
Finally, they reached the dorms. Kaleyan ushered Gavin into the room next to his own suite and exhaled in relief. "You'll stay here."
The room next to the fleet commander's was clearly top-tier. On a ship where space was at a premium, this suite spanned at least two hundred square meters. The furniture was genuine hardwood, and the facilities were state-of-the-art—clearly one of the ship's few luxury quarters.
Gavin had lived on the Ninth Fleet and knew Imperial Admiral Aaron's quarters on his flagship were about the same. The Empire's power made such perks unremarkable for their main battle fleet, but the Alliance exiles having them was intriguing.
"Parliament standard issue. History's complicated—too much to get into." Kaleyan said curtly. "Hide out here for the night. I'll get you off the ship after we land."
Kaleyan had a mountain of messes to clean up, so he turned to leave. But just as he did, Gavin asked without turning. "Why pull out of the fight all of a sudden?"
"—What?"
"You had the upper hand on Shuron Star. Launch a ground assault first, seize the planet, and hit the Ninth Fleet hard—why withdraw?"
Kaleyan stared at Gavin's back. For a few seconds, his eyes darkened. After a long pause, he murmured, "Parliament feared the military getting too powerful on our victory. They issued an emergency recall."
"But that's not your style."
"...I don't follow, sir."
Kaleyan slipped into the honorific unconsciously, but Gavin cut him off with a calm voice before he could recover. "Galactic Year 3060, when we deployed to the outer systems, you weighed the situation in the Dark Star Hall battle—against my orders—and led the Glory Legion to victory. 'Conditions on the battlefield change in an instant; a general in the field need not always obey the sovereign.' That was your defense you wrote me. Forgotten already?"
Silence fell behind him. Kaleyan's pupils contracted, his raised hand trembling faintly. After a long moment, he forced out a syllable. "You... you..."
Gavin's memory of the Dark Star Hall purge was still fragmented and chaotic, but this one detail was enough to chill Kaleyan to the bone. "But that's impossible—"
"You were my deputy, yet you joined the gene cloning of your own superior. Parliament's orders? Why make all the clones Omegas—to make them easier to control?"
Gavin turned, the angle sharpening the lines of his neck and cheek. His uptilted eyes gleamed coldly, that oppressive gaze freezing Kaleyan in place. "An Omega's physiology can't be hidden. If Parliament deliberately made the clones Omegas, they must have lined up suitable Alphas—ones with the right status, resources... and obedience. Who could that be?"
Dead silence filled the room. Distant voices echoed faintly, making the small space feel even more stifling.
Kaleyan pressed his lips tight, sweat beading down his back and soaking his shirt.
Gavin watched him, a faint, ambiguous smile tugging at his lips. "All those soul-refraction clones failed, but the one you oversaw on Red Earth Star woke up successfully. How many coincidences is that? You know Parliament's desperate to make the clones seem alive, yet you're rushing me—a ready-made live one—out of here. Extra kind of you? Or some guilty secret?"
Gavin's smile sharpened, and Kaleyan stared, transfixed like under a curse, his eyes quivering.
"...I can't tell you," the major general rasped after an eternity. "I want to... but I can't."
He backed out of the room, still watching Gavin, and shut the door with shaking hands.
In Gavin's sparse memories, Kaleyan appeared only twice—chaotic fragments. The first: authorizing him to lead the Glory Legion's assault on Dark Star Hall HQ. The second: post-battle, submitting his defense for defying orders, opting for divided forces and pursuit over a direct main-force drop.
Those scraps painted Kaleyan clearly: bold, meticulous, unconventional, with fierce independence and the guts to own his choices.
"You scare him too bad?" Alone now, the Gryphon orb floated from Gavin's pocket. "Think he'll change his mind and hand you to the exiles?"
"No." Gavin said flatly. He headed straight for a shower, washing the dust and blood from his hair. Emerging, he spotted a mini-fridge by the bed, stocked with military rations and beer. He devoured it all without ceremony.
He sat on the bed as the Gryphon orb circled him, scrutinizing his blank expression—like he was plotting his next move, or maybe nothing at all. Then Gavin casually pinched its ear.
"Ow! Ow!" The ear was the orb's sensor; it jerked wildly. "What the hell! Kaleyan leaves and you abuse me?!"
"Come do a scan. You've got basic medical systems, right?"
"Of course! I'm one of the galaxy's top 3S mechs—my med pod outclasses the Empire's, unmatched in the universe... What're we checking?"
Gavin scratched under its chin. "Run a blood test."
The Gryphon obliged, pricking his finger. Minutes later, a holographic report bloomed in midair, full results displayed. Gavin's eyes scanned the lines, halting on one.
He went quiet for seconds, then exhaled softly.
"What?" the Gryphon asked curiously.
"Nothing." Gavin smiled faintly, drew the curtains, and stretched. "Let's get some sleep."
·
As Gavin slept soundly, the Gryphon itched with curiosity, and Kaleyan wrestled with turmoil, a historic storm raged in the Palace of Bai Lu, New Fontaine, on White Egret Star.
*Bang!* Heinrich slammed the interrogation room door. Everyone scrambled up. "Y-Your Majesty..."
The emperor's handsome face was sheathed in ice, his aura so oppressive it made them shiver. Elder Langfero of the Senate frantically signaled, and the interrogator stammered, "W-We almost have it, Your Majesty... P-Please, don't get angry yet..."
"Is that so?" Heinrich said coldly, eyes locked on the woman at the room's far end. "Almost? I don't think so."
The woman—Edna Consertlin—sat under dim lights, wrists bound in mag-cuffs, yet utterly composed. "This how you treat Alliance holdovers, Heinrich? I'm waiting for that so-called evidence of 'colluding with the exiles and leaking to Dark Star Hall.' Even an emperor can't just frame people, right?"
Heinrich glanced at the interrogator, who broke out in a cold sweat.
"Ahem." Elder Langfero cleared his throat. "The emperor has the right to convene inquiries on suspicion alone, Miss Consertlin—"
"If you call this an 'inquiry.'" Edna swept her gaze over the dank cell, sneering. "About as honest as your promise to 'treat Alliance holdovers well,' Your Majesty. Classic you."
Few in the Empire dared speak to the emperor like that, but Edna Consertlin—scion of generations of Alliance Parliament chairs—was one. Langfero wiped sweat and shut up. The tension choked the air until Heinrich spoke coldly. "I have no evidence."
"But don't think you can pull the 'Alliance holdover' card on me, Consertlin. We both know your 'Parliament family' is just high-level political prisoners now. All you've got is being Celia's fiancée—and the real Glory Legion doesn't bow to you."
"Someone does," Edna sneered. "If not, why tolerate me? 'Treating Alliance holdovers well' wasn't your founding stability policy? Without it, you think the provincial governors would've submitted so quick?"
She wasn't wrong, and Heinrich knew it. He had to tolerate her.
Edna's status in the Alliance was near-royal: grandfather and father both chairs, uncle a senator, her own fame vast. Crucially, she was Celia's officially recognized fiancée—name only, but undeniable.
That "name" was her shield today—the galaxy watched. Jailing Celia's fiancée on flimsy charges? Disaster. The Empire was vast; not every province was loyalist. Plenty of systems still leaned Alliance—Ophiuchus Sector prime example.
Heinrich saw the threat but didn't waver. He laughed.
"Treating Alliance holdovers..." He echoed mockingly. "Alliance name, dictatorship reality. Think Celia's death paralyzes the Empire against you? You're just burning through the freedom he died for. How many days you got left?"
Breaths held; not a sound.
"...No idea what you mean." Edna said coldly.
Heinrich smirked. "Everyone out."
Langfero glanced worriedly and led the exit. Soon, only they remained. Heinrich loomed over her, smiling. "I can't touch you. But Celia can."
"You think you can control the amnesiac Celia? Dream on, Consertlin. You used Caroline, summoned Dark Star Hall at the mech league to hand Celia to the exiles. Didn't know they just wanted revenge for four centuries sealed—kill him. But they failed. Celia's regaining memories."
Edna paled at the kill intent, then horror shattered her mask at the memory recovery. "That's—impossible—"
"Why? Soul refraction transfers the whole thought-wave—should preserve all memories." Heinrich narrowed his eyes, then grinned. "Or did the exile fleet tamper with the surgery... so you know Celia can never recover any?"
Edna opened her mouth, said nothing.
"Memory's a man's greatest asset—especially for someone like Celia, over five centuries old. Vast knowledge and experience shaped him: unique character, wisdom, methods. So when I heard he'd lost it all, I got suspicious. The exiles' ultimate soul-refraction project—how such a fatal flaw?"
Heinrich paused, contempt flashing. "Unless... on purpose. You never wanted that unbeatable commander back. Just a pliable Gavin Celia."
Dead silence.
Edna's face turned ashen. "...Just your guess, Heinrich. No proof even that's the real Celia!"
Heinrich burst out laughing, like it'd heard the galaxy's best joke. "—No proof? You think I need proof to know?"
Edna stared, wary, until he sobered and waved. "Guards!"
Two interrogators burst in, reading his eyes and hauling Edna up by the shoulders.
"No need between Celia and me. But to shut your exiles up..." Heinrich paused maliciously, drawling, "I called you here to witness something else."
Edna froze, then realized. "You don't mean—"
"Yes." Heinrich cut her off. "I'm opening Phoenix's cockpit."