Chapter 181: How to Turn Your Boss's Ship Into a Cute Girl
The Imperial agents had done their job well. Months of careful infiltration into Azur Lane's societies had yielded more than just intelligence; they'd secured an actual Wisdom Cube.
Cawl practically vibrated with excitement when the artifact arrived at the Bureau of Celestial Management.
"Round-the-clock analysis," he ordered his Tech-Priests. "I want to know everything about this thing."
The research chamber hummed with activity. The Wisdom Cube, a perfect twenty-centimeter crystal, floated in suspensor fields while scanning beams played across its surface. Data cascaded down projection screens as the Bureau's cogitators worked overtime.
Three days later, Raven arrived to check their progress.
"We've cracked it," Cawl announced, unable to contain his grin. "Not only do we understand their technology, but we've built something better."
He gestured to a containment field where another cube waited, this one etched with the Imperial aquila and pulsing with refined energy patterns.
Raven raised an eyebrow. "A working prototype already? Impressive."
"There's just one problem," Cawl said, his enthusiasm dimming. He glanced toward Dorn.
The Lord of the Seventh Legion stepped forward. "The Azur Lane cubes work on a hierarchy. What we've got here is top-tier, but it needs an equally powerful machine spirit to integrate properly."
"Such as?"
"Gloriana-class, minimum." Dorn's expression was grave. "We'd need authorization from Malcador and the Emperor before risking a Primarch flagship."
Raven tilted his head thoughtfully. Each Gloriana represented five percent of Mars's total output, astronomical resources concentrated into a single vessel. The loss of even one would cripple Imperial naval power for years.
But then something clicked in his mind - a spark of neuron activation that made perfect sense.
"What about the Emperor's Grand Design?"
Dorn's jaw dropped. The Emperor's personal flagship? The vessel that had carried humanity's master through the whole crusade? It was audacious beyond measure, yet...
"That's... technically feasible," Dorn said slowly, "but—"
"Then it's settled." Raven tore open a spatial rift. "I'll ask him myself."
Moments later, space parted again. The Emperor stepped through, followed by Malcador, Valdor, and Perturabo, who'd been mid-conversation with the Sigillite when Raven arrived.
"You want to experiment on my flagship," the Emperor said. It wasn't a question.
"The strategic implications are considerable," Malcador noted diplomatically, his ancient mind already calculating risks and benefits.
The Emperor's frown deepened. The Grand Design was more than a ship; it was a symbol of his authority, a vessel that had witnessed the birth of the Imperium itself. His instinct was to refuse.
Then he noticed Raven's sharpening talons and the predatory gleam in his corvid eyes. Long experience had taught him to recognize that particular expression. Whatever the corvid had planned, refusal would likely result in something far more dramatic.
The Emperor sighed, weighing his options. "Very well. Proceed."
Implementation proved surprisingly simple. After evacuating the Grand Design's crew, Dorn placed the Wisdom Cube on the ship's command throne. Energy threads immediately flowed from the artifact, connecting with the vessel's machine spirit.
The response was immediate and profound. The ship's consciousness, ancient and proud, extended its reach to embrace this new existence.
What had been a dutiful but limited artificial intelligence suddenly bloomed into something far greater. Joy flooded through its systems, then euphoric excitement as new possibilities unfolded.
Dorn withdrew when integration reached halfway. Mysterious patterns of light spread across the ten-kilometer hull like glowing circuitry.
"Is it supposed to do that?" Perturabo asked, professional interest mixing with concern.
Before anyone could answer, brilliant radiance engulfed the flagship. The light built to blinding intensity, forcing even enhanced Primarch vision to look away.
When the glow faded, stunned silence fell.
Where the massive warship had been, a small figure now floated in the void, a black-haired child with a golden halo, clad in ornate armor that mirrored the Emperor's own. Weapon arrays hovered behind her like mechanical wings.
For long moments, nobody spoke.
"Where..." Valdor began, his enhanced mind struggling to process the impossible.
"Where is the ship?" Perturabo finished.
Malcador blinked slowly. "That is the ship."
"Indeed," Dorn confirmed as the golden-armored child approached with graceful movements. "The Wisdom Cube grants humanoid manifestation while preserving all original capabilities. She's no longer just a machine; she has emotions, self-awareness, true consciousness."
"This violates several laws of physics," Valdor observed.
"Welcome to the multiverse," Dorn replied. "We'll see stranger things than this."
The transformed flagship drew closer, and the Emperor found himself face to face with what had once been his personal vessel. She looked up at him with large, curious eyes that somehow retained the dignity and loyalty of the original ship's machine spirit.
"Master," she said, her voice carrying the weight of eons of faithful service.
The Emperor reached out, placing a gentle hand on her head. "Hello, old friend."
The successful transformation sparked immediate debate about their approach to Azur Lane.
"Swift military subjugation would be most efficient," Valdor suggested with typical pragmatism. "Strike before they can organize any resistance."
"Absolutely not." Raven's tone carried an edge that made even Valdor pause. "They're human, just from another reality. War doesn't have to be our first choice."
'No one's my ship, girls. ' Valdor, for some reason, would literally see those words in Raven's eyes.
"The Imperium was built through conquest," Perturabo pointed out. "It's what we do. What we're good at."
"And look how well that's worked," Raven shot back, his eyes flashing. "How many worlds burned? How many civilizations were destroyed that could have been allies instead?"
"Raven has a point," Malcador said quietly. "These ship-girls represent a unique opportunity. If we can bring them into the fold peacefully..."
"They have technology we need," Valdor argued. "Military action ensures acquisition."
"Diplomacy ensures willing cooperation," Raven countered. "Which do you think will be more valuable in the long run?"
The debate continued for several minutes, each side presenting its case with increasing passion. Finally, the Emperor raised his hand.
"Raven has authority over multiversal operations," he declared. "His word is final on this matter."
Both Primarchs looked ready to argue further, but the Emperor's tone brooked no dissent.
The corvid's determination had surprised them all. Usually so laid-back, he'd argued with unprecedented passion. But then, those ship-girls were rather adorable...
With the policy settled, Cawl presented the transformed Grand Design's capabilities to the assembled leadership.
"She has three distinct forms," he explained, "each optimized for different tactical applications."
In her current compact form, she moved like liquid light, achieving nearly eighty percent of lightspeed with fluid grace.
"Incredible speed," Dorn murmured, watching her demonstrate aerial maneuvers that defied conventional understanding.
The second transformation was more dramatic. Her form shifted from child to adolescent, hair lengthening as a massive golden sword wreathed in flames appeared in her grasp.
"Balanced configuration," Cawl noted. "Speed combined with offensive capability."
Perturabo leaned forward, studying the weapon with professional interest. "The power output readings are unlike anything I have seen."
Her final form revealed a mature woman with flowing black hair, with a golden halo over her head, golden eyes, and a darker skin tone. To an unknown eye, she would look like the emperor's own daughter.
The weapon arrays expanded dramatically, their barrels enlarged and inscribed with pulsing runes. The flaming sword grew proportionally, its surface covered in psychic inscriptions.
"Maximum destructive potential," Cawl concluded.
"Remarkable," the Emperor said, genuine pride in his voice. His ship had become something far greater than he'd ever imagined.
"Can she still transport personnel?" Malcador asked the crucial question.
"Her humanoid form is a projected interface," Cawl confirmed. "Fundamentally, she remains a fully functional warship. Crew quarters, command systems, everything exists in quantum superposition with her anthropomorphic appearance."
Raven perched on her shoulder in her compact form, nuzzling against her cheek with obvious delight. "Absolutely precious. Perfect in every way."
The others had grown used to such behavior. A happy raven is the good raven. A serious Raven would be far more concerning.
"So," the Emperor said, studying his transformed flagship with satisfaction, "we have our diplomatic envoy. When do we make contact?"
"Soon," Raven replied, his mind already working through the complexities of first contact protocols. "We'll need to choose our approach carefully. These ship-girls deserve protection, not conquest."
He paused, considering the transformed Grand Design and what it represented, proof that cooperation could achieve what force alone could never do.
"And if diplomacy fails..." he said quietly, "well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
[End of Chapter]
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