Meanwhile, aboard the Nine Chapters, Professor Jinov watched the fleet setting out and raised his glass to the departing soldiers from afar. He was a scientist, not a soldier, and had done everything he could. The rest was up to the warriors.
But just as he was about to toss back the drink in his glass, he inexplicably glanced at the data flickering across the ship-monitoring terminal. He paused for a moment, then seemed to realize something and hurriedly downed his vodka in one go. The liquor's fierce kick only sent his brain cells into overdrive.
Professor Jinov walked up to the terminal and silently read the data as it began to change. A few minutes later, he was overcome with delight. A suspicion that had long been lingering in his mind seemed to have been confirmed, at least to some degree. He didn't open the terminal. Instead, he pulled over his portable whiteboard. For some old-school scholars, writing in midair on a light screen projected by a terminal was soulless, like a charlatan performing a ritual. Only when the pen touched paper or a blackboard could they truly set their inspiration in motion.
On the interrupted formula already written on the whiteboard, Professor Jinov added a string of symbols that most people would never understand, then wrote down several figures—ones he had just copied from the monitoring terminal's screen.
He studied the formula taking shape and smiled with satisfaction. Then he shouted, "Eisen! Eisen! Xiaobai! Tamir! Somebody come over and help me finish this!"
He called several times, but no one answered. Only then did a woman's voice drift languidly through the room. "There's no point in calling. They've all boarded the ship."
The woman who spoke without showing herself was, naturally, the mysterious Gray Lady, who claimed to