Blackstone Code

On the fifth morning of the ongoing uproar, a new front-page headline exploded across the media.

The entire front page of The Federal Times was filled with photographs—sixty-seven in total. Each image had been slightly edited to make them appear less horrifying, but everyone who saw them knew these people were dead.

The blurred areas on their heads clearly masked bullet holes. Their lifeless eyes, devoid of focus, gave off an eerie, unsettling feeling.

The photos disturbed some, but others were thrown into a kind of frenzied euphoria.

Jim was one of the latter.

His life trajectory wasn’t much different from most people in the country. Thanks to free public education, he finished high school without spending much. But that was as far as it went.

College didn’t accept him. Compared to the so-called lucky ones who got in just for having cooking skills or a nice singing voice, he was clearly the unlucky one.

At least high school wasn’t wasted—he dated around, burning through his endless energy in that confusing yet vibrant phase of life.

After graduating, he joined a factory assembly line. He lost his job recently, but luckily his father didn’t, and the family made it through the crisis unscathed.

Now, he’d found another job and started dating again. He followed the topics most men were into—politics, economics, society, healthcare, education, and of course, the front-page news.

Recent headlines had made him angry. At just over twenty, he still had a strong sense of right and wrong, of justice and injustice.

What happened to that girl, and to Mike’s family, enraged him.

Why would anyone hurt innocent people?

And then lie about it afterward?

He couldn’t make sense of what was going on in the world, or in that country called Sugra. Were they all maniacs or lunatics?

But in that moment, his pent-up anger finally found release. He pumped his fists and stared down at the sixty-seven dead faces in the newspaper.

He didn’t find them terrifying—he felt exhilarated. Like when he added a new trophy to his stamp collection.

Fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic.

Despite being about killing, it gave Jim the feeling that this was what a powerful nation should look like.

He couldn’t articulate it exactly, but that was what he meant.

A strong nation, respect—these weren’t just words. You needed proof.

Now they had it.

If you won’t give it to me, I’ll take it myself. Look at these idiots—serves them right.

For the first time, Jim didn’t feel nauseated by the luxury convoys on the road. Some people really were different.

Like Mr. Lynch, who had just passed by in one of those cars.

“Our test results exceeded expectations. Based on our current technology, we can push the aircraft engine performance even further within six months.”

The lead engineer on the aircraft project was reporting their recent progress to Lynch.

The main development was essentially complete. But instead of rushing to show off, the team kept optimizing the aircraft’s structure.

They also explored different materials—like a fully aluminum-alloy body.

Lighter, faster, higher altitude, better payload capacity—and less reliable.

They even experimented with arming the aircraft. The engineers knew that Lynch had given them wide latitude for a reason: to turn what looked like a civilian leisure craft into a weapon of war.

So they created many designs, all needing testing. That’s why it took so long to report back.

“Spare me the fluff,” Lynch said. “Just tell me—can they fly, and can they meet our design goals?”

The engineer nodded firmly. “Yes!”

Lynch patted him on the arm. “I hope you’ve got a surprise for me.”

The convoy soon left the city limits of Eminence. Aircraft testing wasn’t suited to urban environments—crashing into a crowd would be a major headache. So the test site was set up near a remote alert zone.

The land out here was cheap. And since Lynch was offering above the federal minimum wage, Eminence’s city hall generously granted him large plots to build his facilities.

The convoy didn’t stop at the lab—it went straight to the runway. Two new aircraft, or planes, were already there.

“One has a full aluminum-alloy body. The other is the more traditional aluminum-wrapped structure with a wooden frame inside,” the engineer explained.

Lynch listened patiently. He’d need to pitch these to wealthy investors later, so he had to know what to say.

When the technical jargon ended, the first plane—the all-aluminum one—took off smoothly.

“Mr. Lynch, I don’t know if you noticed, but the aircraft was extremely stable during takeoff—no abnormal vibrations. That’s one of the advantages of aluminum alloy,” the engineer said.

“I believe that once we achieve breakthroughs in metallurgy, full-aluminum structures will dominate the aviation industry.”

“But there are still issues we can’t solve—like turbulence…”

Lynch stared upward, watching the plane fly steadily. Then came the wooden-frame, aluminum-clad model.

That design had been around a long time. It hadn’t been phased out because it was cheap—and because wood offered extra flexibility, increasing the aircraft’s safety during unexpected situations.

At the very least, a wing wouldn’t just snap off mid-flight.

Durable and tough.

Watching the two aircraft soaring through the sky, Lynch could already picture a future where the skies were filled with all kinds of flying machines.

“What about their combat capabilities?”

The engineer repeated things Lynch already knew—like how certain millimeter-caliber grenade launchers could be used for high-altitude drops with just a simple switch.

Accuracy aside, they were quite effective.

As he listened to the technical details, Lynch asked a question no one had considered: “Have you thought about how it would defend against aerial threats?”

The researchers and engineers were stunned. They had no idea how to answer.

It wasn’t that the question was too difficult—just that, throughout the entire design process, no one had ever considered the aircraft needing to counter threats from the air.

Globally, aircraft were still mainly a hot topic for amateur research. Because of their popularity, many amateur scientists ended up in crashes each year, which led to the stereotype that flying machines were inherently unsafe.

That perception limited interest and investment. There were very few people in the entire Federation willing to invest in it the way Lynch did.

So the research team had never considered any competitors. And if there were any, the contest wouldn’t be in firepower—it would be about flying farther, higher, and faster.

Now a real problem had surfaced—what if the attack came from the ground?

“We have machine guns!” one researcher said, excitedly, as if he’d just aced the most important test of his life.

Lynch didn’t praise or criticize him. Instead, he asked, “Who would operate them? If it takes two people, how long can they sustain high-intensity combat? And how do you ensure stability during aerial combat?”

One look at their faces told Lynch they had no clue.

“Can you contact the pilots?”

Someone nodded. “We didn’t mount the grenade launchers—used the extra load capacity to install a radio. We can talk to them.”

“Good. Tell them to fly a loop over the alert zone.”

The researchers froze for a moment but quickly understood, even showing a bit of excitement.

From the start, the project was aimed at military sales. But the military had no interest in these things that could crash at any moment—not even enough to consider funding.

Still, some of the researchers hadn’t let go of their hope for military recognition.

The two aircraft received the order and soon changed course, heading toward the alert zone.

Lynch glanced sideways at the chief engineer. “You looked nervous just now.”

The moment the planes flipped and turned in the air, the chief engineer had clenched his fists tightly.

“Nervous? No way! Not at all!” he laughed awkwardly, trying to cover it up.

He was lying. Sharp turns at steep angles could easily snap a wing off. Fortunately, the planes had performed well this time—no accidents.

Twenty minutes later, both planes landed smoothly. Everyone let out a breath of relief and cheered for the successful test flight.

The chief engineer invited Lynch to rest inside the facility, but Lynch declined.

“No rush. Let’s wait a bit.”

Wait?

The chief engineer looked up at the blue sky, the few clouds tinged gold by the sun, like divine palaces floating above.

Beautiful, sure—but what were they waiting for?

A few minutes later, the sound of engines rumbled across the open plain. A group of soldiers was rapidly approaching.