"Alright, what about this one?! This should finally be acceptable!
This is the third public relations proposal we've rewritten, God Emperor, our work efficiency has plummeted to this extent, it's simply a disgrace to the sacred Imperial Navy.
The First Officer next door has already found clues for the case, while we're still bickering here, unable to produce any results."
Lieutenant Stirling stood up, looking somewhat distraught, holding a wine glass filled with wine, loosening his tie, and walking out onto the balcony, hoping that the sunlight and fresh air would make him feel better.
However, looking at the bright sun over the Upper Hive City, feeling physically and mentally exhausted, he could only feel a dizzy spell, and had to put down the goblet, steadying himself against the marble railing, breathing heavily.
Every time he confidently presented a proposal, Sir Humphrey would always find many flaws that left him speechless, forcing him to send it back for revision and start drafting from scratch again.
This made the atmosphere in the office very anxious, awkward, and stiff.
Bernard, from the next room, returned quietly to his original seat after finishing the tasks Horatio had given him.
His bright yet humble little eyes darted back and forth between Lieutenant Stirling and his superior, Sir Humphrey, carefully sensing and pondering the unusual atmosphere.
He secretly glanced at Hank, the Minister of Internal Affairs.
The Minister was holding the handle of a porcelain cup with his index finger and thumb, seemingly drinking tea, but actually using his eyes to subtly hint that Bernard should find a way to alleviate this rigid atmosphere.
If this continued, someone in this office might either collapse from a surge of blood to the head, or fall to the ground with multiple gunshot wounds.
"That's not entirely accurate, Mr. Lieutenant," Bernard said cautiously, holding a manuscript.
"Accurate!? Mr. Bernard, I can count, this is the third draft."
"What I mean is, actually, it was drafted once, then revised once. Then redrafted once, so this is actually the second..."
"Please don't split hairs, Mr. Bernard.
What we need now is to figure out a viable plan."
The Lieutenant, exasperated, sat back down, rubbing his temples, and let out a heavy sigh.
"We are very happy to draft it a third time," Sir Humphrey said, maintaining his usual smile.
"And then? A fourth time? A fifth time? Oh, certainly a sixth time, God Emperor. I want to see what constructive suggestions your department can offer, instead of just nitpicking my flaws here.
I just want to say what I want to say. If it were up to me, I'd just say it as it is, then assure the public that the truth will be uncovered and everything will be brought to light, and that's it!" the Lieutenant said, exasperated.
"To be precise, it's that we want it to say what we want to say," Sir Humphrey corrected him, choosing his words carefully.
"Uh... of course, Mr. Lieutenant, this department certainly doesn't want you to say what you don't want to say." Seeing the two about to start again, Bernard quickly interjected with a joke to lighten the mood.
"Enough! Stop beating around the bush. I'm going with this one."
The Lieutenant's proposal also made the three people from the Adeptus Administratum feel a tingling sensation on their scalps.
From beginning to end, inside and out, every word and line revealed the straightforwardness and efficiency of a soldier, as well as the 'taken for granted' idealism of some bureaucrats. Of course, this was the Adeptus Administratum' habitually euphemistic way of speaking.
From another perspective, the Lieutenant's proposal was full of reckless and imprudent statements, unable to withstand excessive interpretation, and extremely prone to being exploited by others.
The predetermined positions and promises would only raise public expectations, leaving too little room for maneuver in the investigation and image restoration.
Certain arbitrary remarks would cause resentment and resistance from multiple departments, completely contrary to the public relations goal of winning over allies...
The Lieutenant was sincere and dedicated to his proposal, but clearly, the public, especially the unruly ones among them, and the bureaucrats from other brother departments, would not buy it.
"Esteemed Captain, if you insist on me speaking plainly, I can only say that, given the current situation, looking at the big picture, and considering the average administrative level of all our units and departments, after summarizing and analyzing, perhaps we can conclude that, in short, you might find that, although it may not be pleasant to hear, this public relations proposal's actual implementation will likely have a delicate future, and its ultimate effect will only bring greater trouble to your department."
The Sir spoke like a tongue twister, instantly uttering his characteristic, extremely lengthy yet very euphemistic long sentences.
And then, he stopped abruptly at just the right moment, perfectly achieving the effect of 'I warned you, but to avoid implicating myself, and to merely fulfill my auxiliary function, the rest is for you to figure out.'
"But if the Imperial Navy suffers this time, we will also be in big trouble." The second public relations proposal was concocted by the Minister and the Lieutenant together, and it was the part where he injected the 'idealistic' bureaucratic flavor.
This proposal already looked good in the eyes of outsiders, but in the eyes of the slick and document-savvy Sir Humphrey, the product of their combined efforts could only be said to be slightly better than the final revised draft of the first one, but there were still too many loopholes, and this clean little sampan simply could not cope with the turbulent and hostile public opinion.
In this matter, it wasn't actually Sir Humphrey deliberately making things difficult; he also wanted to resolve this matter as quickly as possible to provide an explanation to his superiors.
But public relations cannot be rushed; the more rushed, the more prone to errors, which can cause the situation to rapidly spiral out of control in an irreversible direction.
Moreover, as the Permanent Undersecretary, the highest-ranking secretary.
Whether from the perspective of authority, responsibility, or the risk of bearing responsibility, he could only do his utmost to fulfill his duties as a secretary.
Namely, to advise and warn.
He had seen too many colleagues in his long career in the Adeptus Administratum who, as secretaries, took on the decision-making role of the principal official, and when things went wrong, they couldn't clean up the mess and ultimately paid with their lives.
Secondly.
His and the Administrative Affairs Department's task was only to assist; the primary and secondary relationship must be clearly distinguished.
That is, the Imperial Navy, under the Imperial Fleet, is primary, and the Administrative Affairs Department is secondary.
In this dark officialdom where one wrong step could literally cost everyone their heads, every step must be cautious and not overstepped.
Otherwise, if a problem really arises, others would investigate: 'How did your assisting unit take on the work of the main unit?'
Then the Administrative Affairs Department would truly be unable to voice its grievances and could only wait obediently for the guillotine.
Therefore, out of protection for his own department, as well as his career and personal safety.
Sir Humphrey cautiously and euphemistically pointed out the aspects of the proposal that would only bring negative effects, but he remained silent on how to resolve them.
Perhaps he hadn't figured out how to solve it either.
Perhaps as an Undersecretary rather than a principal official, he could not bear the heavy burden and bitter consequences of 'decision-making.'
Suddenly, the door was pushed open.
"Good afternoon, officers, and leaders of the Adeptus Administratum, I am the First Officer of the Special Operations Division, Horatio Cochrane, Acting Lieutenant."
Horatio pushed open the door and walked in, full of energy, saluting everyone in the office cleanly and efficiently, every movement showing the vigor of a young man.
This formed a stark contrast with the Lieutenant, who was dispirited from being tormented by public relations paperwork.
He held a newspaper folded into quarters under his arm.
"Today's operation has made some progress. First, I think you all might need to see this."
He distributed the newspapers.
The first to get the newspaper was Minister Hank, who was sitting with his legs crossed, curious like a child with a new toy.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Horatio, I heard you've had a breakthrough, congratulations."
"Thank you for your congratulations, Your Excellency the Minister," Horatio replied politely.
But he knew the Minister would soon stop smiling, so he remained silent afterwards, not spoiling the Minister's mood in advance.
When Minister Hank took a sip of tea, then looked closely at the content on the newspaper.
Pfft!
He spat a mouthful of tea onto the poor-quality newspaper. The pungent smell of cheap ink slowly diffused as it soaked in the warm water, and the air began to fill with a sharp odor.
The Minister's hand, holding the teacup, trembled incessantly as if he had Parkinson's disease, and he shakily and clumsily placed the teacup back on the saucer.
Seeing the Minister's reaction, Sir Humphrey realized something was wrong. He stepped forward, greeting him with a smile.
That smiling face was an official mask he had spent decades perfecting to maintain composure and hide emotions. Of course, if Horatio were to comment, he would say that Sir Humphrey looked like a fox.
He maintained his professional smile and respectfully asked Horatio for a copy.
The moment this seasoned civil servant touched the newspaper, he read and identified the text he saw with the astonishing speed characteristic of a senior civil servant.
Then his eyes widened instantly, and his professional smile disintegrated in an instant.
He only deciphered two words from the lines of this newspaper: 'It's over!'
"Thank you, sir." Bernard respectfully took the newspaper from Horatio's hand. He only saw the first large headline before he froze in place.
The last newspaper was given to the Lieutenant.
Crash!
The Lieutenant was so angry that he smashed the goblet on the floor. With a clang, crystal shards mixed with red wine splattered onto the wooden floor, flying everywhere.
"What kind of garbage is this?! How dare they!! How dare they write such things! Are they slandering our Imperial Navy now?!"
Blood rushed to his head, his face quickly turned crimson, his eyes widened in fury, and the veins on his hands bulged, as if he wanted to tear the newspaper in front of him into shreds like a Void Pirate.
Someone about to collapse from a surge of blood to the head is about to appear!
Minister Hank, wiping his shirt with a handkerchief, thought as he looked at the Lieutenant.
Please give me monthly votes! Please recommend! Thank you for your support, dear readers!
The next chapter will be posted after revision!