Screwllum expressed his respect for Caelus.
"Very few people can send their own troops to help a planet's natives so generously and without asking for anything in return."
A bit abstract.
"The resources you're putting in don't match the short-term returns you can foresee—especially with infrastructure projects. Can you tell me why you want to develop this star system?"
Screwllum was rather curious.
"Develop… tch, that's not quite it…"
Caelus averted his gaze.
"With so many poor devils and starving ghosts here, it hurts just looking at them."
"Tragedies across the galaxy are beyond counting; an environment like this can't be changed by you alone, or even by your entire force."
"You're absolutely right—the galaxy is huge. But if I come across one, I'll reduce the count by one. That's good enough." Caelus stared at Screwllum. "The numbers keep climbing steadily, don't they? One is one, two is two."
Screwllum had seen too many beings who, lofty ideals in hand, ended up lost inside an oversized goal, and just as many who, feeling their power too small, chose to stand by and watch. A being like Caelus—who clearly recognizes the limits of his ability yet still acts with unwavering resolve, even taking pleasure in it within those limits—was truly rare.
"I understand." Screwllum's voice sounded gentler than before; it wasn't a programmed simulation but more like recognition coming from his core. "Your logic of action is built on the principle of 'infinite effort within limited ability.' You don't stop walking because the goal is distant, nor do you deny the value of each step just because your strength is modest."
"Maybe. I'm no genius, but I'm happy to help these poor devils and starving ghosts get a bite to eat, a roof over their heads, some money in their pockets, enough spirit to get by, and even the chance to marry and have kids so their descendants can keep being squeezed by me."
He called it squeezing, yet the treatment was remarkably good.
Screwllum silently surveyed the surroundings.
Several kampfers were working hard, while mobile laborers and Zakus quickly sorted usable scrap.
"In some ways, geniuses can't compare to you at all."
"Don't butter me up—I can't handle praise. One compliment and I'll float; once I float, I'll forget my roots." Caelus's eyes lit up. "Right, can you sell me a batch of Screw Star's decommissioned gear? I need infrastructure projects; without more construction machinery, efficiency is just too low."
"With pleasure." Screwllum nodded. "Screw Star can provide equipment to your company free of charge."
"No need for freebies. Neither I nor anyone in this star system who works under me needs charity. Everyone earns their keep with their own hands, not through someone else's help."
It wasn't arrogance or affectation; from Caelus's tone and gaze Screwllum read a near-instinctive principle.
"I understand." Screwllum inclined his head slightly, the light circulating in his electronic eyes carrying new appraisal and respect. "My oversight, then. We'll proceed by normal commercial cooperation. Screw Star can transfer a batch of reliable construction machinery and basic industrial equipment—phased out by newer models—at prices slightly below current market. This isn't charity; it's an investment in a friend worthy of respect."
"Sounds fair. Still, I'll need to inspect the goods, see what models they are and whether they can still move. If you ship over a pile of real scrap iron…"
Real scrap iron would be fine—he could cobble together even more efficient frames.
"Of course. I'll send you a detailed equipment list and condition report immediately upon my return." Screwllum assured him, "All units are guaranteed basic operational ability; some may need routine maintenance, but none will have core functional deficits."
"Pleasant doing business, Mr. Caelus."
"Right," Caelus said, as if remembering something. He let go, rummaged through those pockets that seemed linked to other dimensions, and fished something out. "Since we're partners now, here's a small commemorative gift."
Screwllum accepted the thumb-sized cube.
"Right now it's just an empty shell… you could say this thing could originally birth an inorganic life-form, but it's defunct now. Might help your research."
"Capable of birthing inorganic life?" Screwllum's electronic eyes focused on the cube, scanning beams sweeping its surface again and again, yet reading only basic physical parameters. No active signal—just ordinary metal.
But Caelus never spoke without reason.
An "empty shell" that once held—or had—the function of "creating inorganic life"… its research value was incalculable.
"This gift…" Screwllum lifted his electronic gaze toward Caelus, the usually placid light now solemn beyond measure, "is far too precious."
"Precious my foot; it's just useless junk." Caelus waved it off. "It only takes up space with me. Take it back and tinker—maybe you'll discover something. Even if you don't, it makes a fine paperweight. Maybe Justin and Dean were catalyzed from something like it."
"I will treat it with the utmost care." Screwllum promised, the light in his electronic eyes steady and profound. "I look forward to our continued cooperation."
After seeing off the pensive Screwllum, Caelus stretched, feeling a major task completed.
He strolled toward the cafeteria, ready to reward himself with a hearty lunch. Passing the temporary "culture corner" Guinevere had set up, he saw the girl leading several half-grown kids, piecing something together from discarded parts while muttering—apparently drafting new storytelling material. The children's eyes sparkled, utterly absorbed.
Caelus didn't interrupt; he only watched from afar, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curving.
Screwllum's efficiency surpassed all expectations. Less than a day after the gentlemanly Intellitron left Terra, a staggeringly detailed equipment list arrived at Caelus's personal terminal.
It catalogued hundreds of different models of construction machinery and production equipment, each entry accompanied by current operational status, estimated remaining service life, maintenance suggestions—even recommended retrofit plans.
A rough estimate: if this batch of equipment arrived and went online, Terra Star's industrial base would leap forward by at least a thousand years.
That would make building the next fifty planets effortless.
"So… we're really buying all this?" March 7th craned her neck, looking at the complex mechanical drawings and astronomical total, and clicked her tongue. "Do we have enough credits?"
"Prometheus, calculate the available credits in our account—enough to swallow this shipment?"
"Based on the listed total plus projected shipping costs, entirely sufficient, with ample surplus."
He hopped down from the transport, clapped his hands, and caught the attention of Lancelot, Rogal Dorn, and the others assembling nearby.
"Gather round! Morning meeting!"
The group quickly surrounded him, faces still sweaty from early labor but eyes full of expectation.
"Everyone, listen up—our company's operations are expanding! Now it's not just Terra Star but the lousy planet next door; we're scaling up to fifty planets!"
"Expanding…"
"Fifty planets…"
"Wow, fifty worlds!"
"The Great Crusade!"
"Ooooooh!!!"
"The Great Crusade!"
"The Great Crusade!"
Caelus:?
What the heck.
He'd clearly said "business expansion," so how had their ears auto-translated it into "Great Crusade"?
"Hold on! Hold on!" Caelus quickly raised both hands, trying to dampen the increasingly absurd cheers. "What Great Crusade? We're going to build! To open branch offices! To pick up—uh, to conduct commercial development and resource recovery! Not to fight!"
Yet his explanations sounded feeble against the tide of fervor.
"For the Emperor! For Terra!"
"Purify those worlds! Let the Emperor's glory illuminate every corner!"
"We need more steel titans!"
"For the Emperor!"
"SILENCE!!!"
Caelus filled his lungs and unleashed a volume that bordered on sonic attack, finally forcing the deafening cheers to subside—for the moment.
He took a deep breath. His heart felt so tired.
"Listen up!" He jabbed a finger at the garbage planet that had only just begun to improve. "We—Cosmic Junk Company—main business—is trash collection! Resource recycling! Plus community service! Not—damn it—outward expansion!"
He roared the words one by one, trying to carve the core idea that "we're a (supposedly) legitimate company" into everyone's DNA.
"Our next goal is to use the newly purchased equipment to raise resource-recovery efficiency and infrastructure on our current planet! At the same time, locate other under-utilized worlds with potential 'commercial value,' set up branch offices, broaden our scope! The aim is profit! Growth! To let more people—uh, more 'prospective clients' and employees—enjoy the treatment our company offers!"
He struggled to steer the speech toward business.
Yet the crowd below fell silent for an instant, then exploded with an even louder, perfectly synchronized roar:
"For the Emperor's grand design!"
"For Terra Star's glorious future!"
"The Great Crusade! The Great Crusade!"
"The Great Crusade! The Great Crusade! The Great Crusade!"
Far from achieving the desired effect, the words moved the Terrans deeply.
This is our Emperor!
He isn't invading other planets—he wants everyone else to live better lives too!
Guh! Long live the Emperor!
"Long live the Emperor!"
Expressionless, he lifted a hand and pressed it down.
Miraculously, the thunderous cheering and singing stopped at once; every burning gaze fixed on him, awaiting his "divine decree."
Caelus: "…"
"From now on, no one says 'long live'!"
"Huh?"
The people were puzzled.
"Everyone, listen: your food, your homes, your lives—you earn them by working under me, by creating value with your own hands! Not by some damn gift! It's what you deserve! Live with dignity! Got it? You can respect me, esteem me, but you will not kneel! Except to your parents, no kneeling to anyone! Understood?"
The crowd sank into a brief, almost frozen silence.
They stared at their "Emperor," at the face taut with anger, hearing words utterly unlike every legend, every expectation.
In the brutal Talia Star System, might is truth; submission and tribute to the strong are instinct. They were used to pinning hope on someone mightier, to trading humility for shelter.
Yet now the being they revered as a god was hauling them to their feet, telling them: your dignity outweighs your knees.
A deeper, fiercer emotion brewed and surged within that quiet.
Slowly, one by one, they straightened backs once habitually bent.
No cheers, no slogans.
But that wordless gaze, those upright spines, carried more force than any tsunami of shouts.
Looking at the silent, standing tide below, Caelus's irritation and helplessness melted away. He sighed; his tone softened, ironclad:
"Remember! With me: work, get paid, eat, live like a proper human being! That's the rule! Anyone I catch kneeling for no reason, or spouting 'long live' or 'Emperor'… gets sent straight to work! Three solid days—think hard about who you are!"
"Understood!"
"We'll remember!"
"Emperor, we love you to bits!"
Watching the base snap into motion, Caelus rubbed his brow and complained to Prometheus beside him: "Why do I feel… the more I explain, the worse it gets?"
"Behavioral-pattern analysis indicates your emphasis on 'dignity' and 'self-reliance,' coupled with the generous benefits and protection you provide, forms a stronger positive-reinforcement loop at the logical level. Employee loyalty and motivation are projected to rise further," Prometheus answered calmly. "As for the title issue, I recommend shelving it; its net impact trends positive."
"Fine, let them call me whatever, so long as the work gets done." Caelus gave up on fixing the impossible. "Did you look at Screwllum's equipment list? Filter it—prioritize anything that quickly boosts trash-processing efficiency and infrastructure, especially smelting, sorting, and basic parts fabrication."
"Filtering complete per priority." Prometheus's projection unfolded, highlighting dozens of devices. "Recommend first-batch purchase: large plasma smelter, automated sorting conveyors, multi-function industrial machine tools, plus supporting power modules. These will rapidly establish a basic metal-recovery and reprocessing chain."
"Do it." Caelus clapped the decision. "Also, have Guinevere—forget it, I'll do it myself."
"I'll ping Screwllum, lock in this core batch." He flew across the terminal. "Need to push them for faster delivery—ideally send a few techs to guide installation, room and board plus consulting fees… our people are keen, but it'll take time to master the high-end gear."
Days later a fleet of huge industrial transports, escorted by several Screw Star light frigates, slid into the Talia Star System and headed for Terra Star's coordinates. The massive hulls eclipsed a patch of sky; their shadows drew gasps from the ground.
Caelus waited on the cleared landing field with the ever-curious March 7th and the silent, sharp-eyed Dan Heng.
Giant containers were hoisted down from the transports. Terra's natives and ex-pirate employees stared, dazzled; they had never seen such swift, precise operations.
To Caelus's seemingly amateur yet oddly pointed questions, the engineers responded with high professionalism, giving clear answers and even volunteering principles and precautions.
When the first plasma furnace ignited and a stable blue plasma stream burned inside the chamber, the onlookers erupted. It meant the mountains of metal trash could now be turned into useful ingots.
Installation and debugging lasted days. All core gear was set up, adapted to Terra's dusty, corrosive atmosphere, and furnished with detailed operation manuals and troubleshooting guides.
Training ran in parallel. Selected Terrans and ex-pirates soaked up the never-before-seen knowledge: startup and shutdown, daily maintenance, simple fault-fixing, parameter tweaks. The engineers explained step-by-step while AI aids offered real-time simulations and error correction.
"He looks forward to seeing more worlds in the Talia Star System revived under your company's hand."
"Tell him to stay tuned."
The engineer's electronic eyes seemed to curve in a smile. "I will relay that. Goodbye, Mr. Caelus."
With the Screw Star convoy gone, Caelus stood before the now-sizeable industrial zone, hands on hips, watching the roaring smelter, the ever-moving belts, the bustling people.
Preparations for expansion were finally on track.