Horatio walked on the deck. The crew members in battle were rushing around, but they still remembered to press their thumbs into the middle of their bent index fingers, saluting Horatio (those without hats would touch their forehead, becoming a forehead salute).
However, compared to their expressionless faces when they first boarded the ship, these crew members now looked at him directly, lowered their heads, behaved respectfully, and showed reverence in their eyes for him as a person, rather than for his officer's uniform.
Horatio stood tall, composed, and also nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
Combat in the void was also a part of the crew's life.
Horatio, leading his guard, walked on the upper deck and looked down through the railing.
Sailors were toiling diligently, performing various tasks for the Macro cannons of awe-inspiring caliber. Standing amidst large cranks, they pushed enormous brass gears shaped like millstones.
This massive gear would drive thousands of gears of various sizes, ultimately powering the telescopic rods of the loading machines, auxiliary energy relays, fire suppression systems, and other internal mechanical components. Their operating principle was similar to clockwork, allowing the machines to self-inspect, clear minor malfunctions, and prevent jams.
It was a tiring job, but lively music could make those doing the hard labor feel more relaxed.
A person who could play the violin sat on top of the winch, playing music to entertain their clan members.
The crew members would push and sing rhythmic 'boatmen's shanties,' turning the winch to the beat.
Whether in the Imperial Navy, Charter Fleet, civilian fleets, or Rogue Trader vessels, such customs were prevalent. Among them, popular shanties would become sea songs, even recorded by naval folklore scholars, becoming a form of cultural entertainment popular on military port planets.
Every Sailor working under the winch had to sing shanties. The content of the shanty was the responsibility of the leading Sailor, usually the one with some musical talent and the loudest voice.
Sometimes he would include words mocking the officers in the shanty, and even give them ugly and indecent nicknames, such as Grumpy Cow, Dick Dump, or Funny Tyrant.
But as long as the shanty could make the workers push the winch diligently, what the leader sang, as long as it wasn't too excessive, the officers often turned a blind eye and didn't care.
"So long, Abyss Port ladies."
"We are ordered to sail towards the Eye of Terror, and we shall never see such graceful ladies as you again."
"We roar, we bellow, like true Imperial Navy Sailors, accompanied by the scorching solar winds, until we reach the deepest part of Mandeville Point."
"From Lucius to Sepra-Mundi, from Mordian to Agrippina, there are three and a half million void chains."
"Guided by the light of the Astronomican, we drift along the Warp currents."
"Lads, we are traveling in the void, a long journey ahead, and this current alone has 45 dangerous derelict zones."
"So we adjust our course, following the Navigator's all-seeing eye, maintaining the Geller Field's ethereal flame."
Horatio recognized the tune the Sailors were now singing; it was a variation of "Spanish Ladies" that had been passed down from the Age of Sail.
[Did this song make it to the 41st millennium?] He was somewhat surprised by the long history of this sea shanty.
"Fill your glasses, drink them down, all of us raise our glasses to Officer Horatio! He leads us to victory, everyone drink up!"
The leading Sailor saw Horatio, dressed in an officer's uniform, looking at them from above. The Sailors were enthusiastic, changing the lyrics to praise Horatio's valiant fighting.
"We drink and make merry, we cast away our sorrows, drink this glass, congratulations to Officer Horatio for his health and victory, and celebrate the health of every true person!"
Horatio chuckled softly. Although the Navy Department required officers to maintain a dignified and unapproachable demeanor, it didn't mean officers were forbidden to smile.
Amidst the Sailors' rough praises, Horatio straightened his chest and walked forward with honor and pride.
How could the Sailors have imagined that this handsome, tall, decent, elegant, skilled in battle, and graceful Imperial Navy Officer was, just over half a year ago, an Imperial convict who had been imprisoned in the Lower Hive, sentenced to death by the Adeptus Arbites, with a status far inferior to these Sailors?
When they learned that the officer they followed and served was the only living descendant of the great Admiral Spire, it caused a huge sensation among the crew.
Countless people wanted to witness the honor of the legendary descendant with their own eyes.
They had even thought it through: years later, when the ship's Imperial Navy broadcast continuously spoke of Horatio Cochrane's extraordinary achievements, which could be called a feat, they would have another valuable topic for their casual chats:
'Let me tell you, when that Lord was still a Midshipman, and you were all snot-nosed brats, I followed him from inside the ship to outside. That day we were incredibly brave, slaughtering the traitors completely. See this battle scar on my body? Heh heh.'
Horatio and his guard walked to the nearest medical bay to the gunnery command platform. The floor inside was made of solid silver, which had antibacterial properties.
But as the battle progressed, the compartment was already in disarray, with blood footprints everywhere, and the heart-wrenching wails of the wounded echoed throughout the spacious medical bay.
The thousands of medical beds inside were overflowing, and many wounded could only temporarily sleep on makeshift beds on the floor. Their injuries were quite serious, but fortunately, most could be saved through emergency treatment.
More precisely, lightly wounded individuals would not be sent to the medical bay; they would find a place for others to bandage them. And those with extremely severe, almost hopeless injuries would be given a quick release by the Voidsmen-at-Arms.
The Medical Officer inside was extremely busy, and the medical assistants, who acted like nurses, rushed around, tending to the wounded and selecting those worth their time to save for the Medical Officer.
The Unyielding was very fortunate; the Order of the Sacred Rose had provided several Medical Sisters. There was one in this compartment, and like Sister Arabella, she had short black hair and a nearly identical look of exhaustion and weariness on her face.
The small patient on the operating table groaned through gritted teeth, gasping for breath rapidly.
It was a ship boy, only eleven or twelve years old, performing auxiliary work in the battle, but unfortunately, he was hit by shrapnel, and his entire arm was almost completely shattered, twisted beyond recognition under the skin and flesh.
The Medical Sister was preparing to amputate the child's arm.
The people crowded in the medical bay saw Horatio and saluted him, respectfully clearing a path for him.
Before Horatio arrived, they had already been discussing the officer's astonishing performance in battle.
Now that he was here in person, the discussions about him grew louder.
Countless rumors spread like wildfire throughout the warship, becoming increasingly exaggerated.
"Heh heh heh, look! That's the young Lord! I just saw him single-handedly slay all the Ogryn and enemy officers, and even their entire guard."
"More than that, I saw him cut down an enemy Space Marine with one sword!! Do you know? A Space Marine!! What does that mean?! A fallen demigod!"
"Kid, did you see? That Lord isn't much older than you. Look at that big Chainsword in his hand, it's so damn imposing, taller than you are.
They're all wrong, they can't even imagine how incredible that Lord is! What Space Marine? He took down a traitor Terminator! I saw it with my own eyes!
Do you know what a Terminator is, kid?"
The old Sailor grinned, his broken black and yellow teeth showing, proudly displaying the special knowledge he had heard during the voyage.
The child, whose head was bandaged over one eye and who was receiving an IV drip, shook his head.
"The most awesome among Space Marines!" The old Sailor curled his lips and gave a thumbs up: "A demigod among demigods."
The child's eyes, originally listless from pain, instantly lit up. He opened his mouth wide in astonishment, turned to look at Horatio, and his one remaining eye was filled with admiration for the blood-soaked officer.
Horatio:?
Horatio slowly formed a big question mark in his mind.
[I killed a Terminator Space Marine? How come I didn't know?] He smiled, but said nothing.
Bringing inspiration to the crew was another important role of a Naval Officer. Let them spread whatever they wanted; as long as it boosted morale, it wasn't a bad thing.
"Sir, do you need anything?" A Medical Officer and a Medical Sister both asked Horatio simultaneously.
The young Medical Sister also knew that Horatio was the hero who had defended their Church of the Celestial Woman's holy ground, and her tone was very respectful and gentle.
However, what secretly surprised her was that she had expected Horatio Cochrane to be a seasoned and experienced officer in his thirties, but she hadn't expected him to be so young.