Chapter 93 Rozem Premki
He, Rozem Premki, went AWOL again.
However, his memory is not very good, and he simply feels that he must have remembered his name correctly.
In a less than graceful gesture, the Starfire's Messmaster cast aside the responsibility of serving the Chapter Astartes, as heavy as an Imperial Titan, from his shoulders, and broke this free rein. A cage built of ten thousand years of clichés.
Although an hour later, he had to return to the slightly depressing upper deck again, smearing hypocrisy on his face in front of the Astartes.
Now this strong man, who is nearly two meters tall, is climbing over this damn metal wall with all his strength near the passage area from the upper deck to the lower deck.
The previous jump allowed him to hold on to the top of the wall with both hands. He stepped on the bucket he borrowed quietly from the boiler room with his left foot and rubbed his right foot hard on the smooth wall, trying to find a The key focus.
And he went all out just to take advantage of the golden opportunity during the subspace voyage when the kitchen did not need to be taken care of and there were not many things to sneak out and have some fun.
But if you think about it carefully, it’s the same thing.
The first part can be said to be righteous and upright, but the second part seems embarrassing and wretched. This is the skill of Rozim.
As a former Astartes pre-select, his status on the Starfire was not low, but his duties sounded less honorable.
Perhaps when people mention Astartes, they will immediately think of a terrifyingly serious poker face.
But over the years, Rozim has always believed that it is always better to use words than to use the trigger.
This may be one of the reasons why he did not become an Astartes in the end.
For example, the bucket under his feet. When he wrote the word "borrow", he would never leave out the quotation marks without conscience.
It was indeed borrowed from the boiler in the boiler room.
Of course, the reason is a bit vague, after all, his memory has always been bad.
With the help of a strong physique beyond ordinary people, Rozim was very happy that his twitching right leg, which was almost losing strength, finally exerted force on the wall, with the sound of "squeak". Some exhausted bodies fell to the ground inside the wall.
The sound was a bit loud, but he was not worried about the sight of me from the sentry post.
He had already checked the view of the sentry post and knew that it was a safe blind spot.
Then he raised his wrist and took a look.
No more, no less, the watch showed that he still had at least 56 minutes of standard Terra time to waste.
So he quickly got into a small freight elevator, and then activated the descent button. With a slight feeling of weightlessness, he stayed in the elevator for ten minutes.
When the elevator door opened, he immediately got into the shadows, walked along a small maintenance passage, and arrived at the familiar old place.
In the distance within sight, a neon light emitting a faint red light cheered him up.
The fun begins.
It is now Standard Terran Time, three thirty in the afternoon.
At this time, there is always no one in the bar, because according to the common saying of the overseers, scum who do not work hard but just live in confusion cannot be called human beings, because they do not deserve the redemption of the emperor.
So, the only people in this secluded little iron room now should be some gang members, the prostitutes who are trying to court Rozim, and a few lazy people with red eyes and sighs on the bar. ghost.
A long time ago, as the son of a chief in a wild world, Rozim once had an extremely fervent desire to become a warrior in the heavens, hoping to become a courageous and powerful son of God.
But he was mistaken about something.
Becoming a celestial warrior does not bring him much material enjoyment, and even very little spiritual enjoyment. He cannot truly abandon his human desires.
Perhaps because of this, he failed and survived the pain.
Rozim was frustrated by this more than once, but he soon realized that he was indeed not the material.
He can only change his thoughts and make himself more vulgar and boring. Only in this way can he embrace a life full of fireworks, eat all day long, enjoy himself in time, and live in drunken dreams.
Okay, so he planned to let himself forget this first.
Because he found that when he was silently reminiscing, the prostitute was already wandering in front of him, trying to hook up with the business in front of him.
"Do you want me~"
The voice is loud enough and the person is energetic enough, but Rozim knows that people like this who actively pull people at the door are generally a little unclean. Of course, anyone who knows about this will definitely be very confused. How can there be such a blasphemous existence and dirty transactions on the glorious battleship Astartes?
If Rozim could hear it, he would laugh.
Strictly speaking, only the upper and middle decks of this battleship are under the aura of the Astartes, while the lower deck is a place where angels will never set foot in almost their entire lives.
Here, mortal life is everything.
Their joy, their pain, their sadness, their desires...
All of this can never be experienced on the upper deck several kilometers away, where Like a huge church, everything is shrouded in a solemn halo.
Of course, it's not that Rozim hates the upper deck. After all, he also likes to be clean, and struggling to survive every day is not what he wants.
But this does not prevent him from occasionally having fun to numb his brain that is often tortured by failure.
"No, thank you."
After he finished speaking coldly, the prostitute who left angrily cursed "male dog" in a low voice.
On the contrary, Rozim felt happy. After all, he had been following those servants who were either fooling around or keeping a straight face and talking to each other all day long. He hoped that one of them would dare to raise his middle finger and say something to him. bad language.
Before entering, he looked up at the sign of this secret bar.
The name of this bar is "The Flintstone", which seems to be because the owner has a hot temper after all, which is why Rozim chose to drink here.
Because the boss is one of the few people who knows that he comes from the upper deck, but will not have any special opinions about him.
As for other people, such as the bitch just now, if she knew that she was being disrespectful to a senior chapter servant on the upper deck, Rozim would be able to excite her just by patting her on the shoulder. One week.
“What do you want?”
The sound of footsteps revealed Rozim's position. He vaguely saw the bartender and owner standing behind the bar, slowly wiping the wine bottles on the cabinet. From time to time, he raised the bottle to the red light tube to compare it to see if there was anything inside. How much is left.
There was a clang.
Rozim grabbed the drunkard who was sleeping like a corpse on the bar and threw him on the floor, and then snatched the other person's high stool without politeness.
"Medium glass, full, rum."
"Wait a moment."
When the boss put down the beer bottle he was cleaning and searched for rum on the cabinet, Rozim glanced at his watch.
There are 42 minutes left, it’s still early.
Then his eyes turned to the gang members. They seemed to have a dispute over something. Rozim guessed that the spoils must be unevenly divided.
He really hoped that they could have a fight, and then he could deal with them one by one. In this case, maybe he wouldn't have to pay for the drinks for a while.
The order on the lower deck is basically non-existent. The Astartes will not even glance at it. The mortal auxiliary army of the Chapter also dislikes this place. In addition to the technical guards in charge of each cabin, the main maintenance of order here is Those are gangs.
In a sense, the lower deck of a large battleship like the Spark is almost a small hive.
The local gangs with the characteristics of the hive city are naturally indispensable.
“Your wine, Mr. Chef.”
Soon, the cup was placed on the bar counter, right in front of Rozim’s eyes.
He picked up the cup and took a sip silently.
"Hmm..."
The taste isn't quite right, but it's strong enough to make your throat feel like it's burning. It must be home-brewed.
Rozim also knows how to brew wine, but it is too dangerous to do so on the upper deck. The dense sensors on it can easily expose his plan.
Once a Chapter Servant is found to be involved with alcohol or drugs, he must be prepared to face the Chapter Chaplain.
A mortal priest is terrifying enough, a black-armored Astartes priest.
Rozim didn't want to be nailed to the Skyhawk frame and couldn't even get the buttons off.
(End of this chapter)