But to be honest, Rozim admitted that the taste of this ho-brewed rum was actually quite good, not much different from the real deal. Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked for an entire bottle to keep on hand.
He didn't have the guts to brew it himself, but he certainly had the guts to bring so back—plenty of it, in fact.
But as a veteran of the bar scene, Rozim knew that the most fundantal quality was to seize every possible opportunity.
If there was no fault to be found, so be it, but the mont he found a reason to wrangle out of paying his bar tab, he absolutely had to seize it tenaciously.
Only this way could one survive long in a bar, and only then would the owner get "close" to you.
Thus, he cleared his throat, preparing to play the troublemaker.
"Boss, it's not that I'm complaining about this..."
"This liquor isn't right, boss!"
Suddenly, a low growl emanating from beside him startled Rozim.
By the ager lighting, which was better than nothing, the Chapter's Master of the Refectory finally realized that the soundly sleeping drunk beside him had been replaced by a Tech-Priest from the Starfire's bridge: Loken.
Ugh!
Uh-oh...
Two sounds practically rang out simultaneously.
Sweat instantly beaded on Rozim's forehead.
Setting aside the bizarre question of why the other party would appear here, everyone knew exactly what would happen if a Tech-Priest absent without leave was discovered.
In other words, the other party's life or death currently rested in Rozim's hands.
Of course, Rozim wouldn't get him killed, but he at least had to make him pay his bar tab this ti.
However, if it were just that, Rozim wouldn't be this nervous.
As soone who constantly served in the kitchen and the Chapter's Refectory, perhaps others might not recognize him, but Loken, who was qualified to enter the Chapter's Refectory, definitely recognized him...
A Master of the Refectory absent without leave, plus a Tech-Priest drowning his sorrows...
Rozim could vividly imagine how Chapter Master Soshyan would deal with him.
But seeing how the other was slumped on the floor, Rozim judged that he was likely still in a drunken stupor.
Thus, after drawing countless heavy red 'X's over the na Loken in his heart, Rozim rationally decided to retreat.
"One bag of Corpse Starch or three standard military Ration Sticks."
The tavern owner's impassive words dispelled Rozim's notion of sneaking out under the cover of darkness.
Gritting his teeth, Rozim fished three finger-length Ration Sticks wrapped in oil paper from his pocket, tossed them into the already-emptied shot glass, then turned and walked out.
Aboard the Starfire, food was the eternal hard currency.
However, after walking perhaps a dozen paces out of the bar, Rozim suddenly rembered that he had forgotten the unopened bottle of hard liquor on the bar top.
And he had originally intended to bring it back to his quarters to savor slowly during his rest period behind a locked door.
What to do? He had already paid for it...
So, out of an instinctive sense of wishful thinking, Rozim turned around and walked back.
In the very next second, however, he saw Loken stumble out of the bar's entrance, carrying that very bottle of liquor in his hand, still cursing and muttering under his breath.
And at almost the exact sa ti, both parties spotted each other.
Consequently, the Chapter's Master of the Refectory and the Tech-Priest stood deadlocked at a distance of ten ters, embarrassnt written all over both their faces.
"Hah, well..."
"I saw you dropped sothing, so I hurried over to bring it back to you."
After speaking, both sides fell silent for a few seconds. Then, they simultaneously let out a burst of insincere, dry laughter in an attempt to ease the tension.
But clearly, it wasn't very successful.
"The weather's pretty good today, huh."
"Ah, ah, yes. I ca down to look for so mushrooms. I heard there's a very delicious type of mushroom around here."
"Oh, oh, oh, I know that one. It's the deathcap mushroom that grows specifically on corpses, right?"
Rozim felt that both he and the other party were acting like idiots, not to ntion that they were standing in a place where others could discover them at any mont, spouting utter nonsense.
"How about we get out of here first? I know a safe route."
Loken pointed to a small path on the right. Rozim thought about it and decided that returning the way he ca might not be safe. This guy was a Tech-Priest; when it ca to understanding the warship's structure, absolutely no one could surpass him.
Therefore, the safety factor of the route he chose was undoubtedly very high.
Thus, he nodded and followed this adept of the Adeptus chanicus—who had co down here to drown his sorrows—into a hidden passage.
"So... hic!"
Rozim let out a boozy hiccup, propped his boots onto a pile of gears, and said drunkenly:
"You planned to sexually assault the Chapter Master's Battle Automata, but ended up getting beaten by it."
The Chapter's Master of the Refectory shook his head, letting out a mocking laugh.
"I don't understand you cogboys. Did you want to screw its exhaust pipe? Or its power socket? Don't you find it rough..."
"You don't know a damn piston!"
Sitting in a chair, Loken miserably held his head with his chanical chadendrites, while his right hand continued to shovel so sort of alcohol-grease mixture into his mouth.
"It... it's different! I can feel it! It is a work of technology! A perfect masterpiece! By studying it, I can integrate one step closer with the Omnissiah!"
"So, hic! You still want to screw it."
"Shut up! You organic trash whose brain is entirely filled with reproductive activities!"
Rozim chuckled, swayed as he stood up, and swept his eyes around Loken's workshop.
Suddenly, he noticed a strange device mounted on the shoulder of a Castellax-class Battle-Automata. It looked like a massive watering can, with a hose trailing from the back that connected to a half-person-tall tal canister.
"What's this? Looks like my big oil pot."
"Idiot!"
Loken slamd his glass onto the table, stood up, and patted the tal canister on the Battle Automata's back, saying:
"The Chapter Master had develop—hic!—a non-lethal weapon specifically designed to capture targets. This contains a specially formulated high-molecular polyr that must be stored in a cryogenic canister."
Saying this, he pointed at the device resembling a watering can.
"Once fired, this high-molecular polyr rapidly coagulates into a tough, ribbon-like solid substance impervious to water and fire. This spiral launcher can spray it up to a hundred ters away. Once sprayed... hah! Even an Astartes wouldn't be able to break free anyti soon."
"Keep bragging. Even an Astartes couldn't break free, he says."
Rozim sneered, circled the Battle-automata once, and then noticed a lever behind the launcher that could be toggled.
"What's this—"
Saying this, he reached out his hand.
"Hey!!"
Right at this mont, the doors to Loken's workshop suddenly opened. A fellow Tech-Priest—Ford, who was in charge of biologis—spoke inward from outside the door:
"Loken, lend your dical servitor for a sec—"
[Door]===8(⊙_⊙)?
Yet Rozim's finger had already pressed down...
In the next second, a jet of milky-white liquid surged from the launcher in a spiral, directly subrging the poor Tech-Priest within it.
"Urgh—"
(End of Chapter)
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