Chapter 476 - 447 Pirates Selling Their Lives

The construction of warships critically tests overall industrial capabilities. It is evident that the African Union does not possess such industrial prowess, and Wakanda only excels in agriculture.

But it doesn’t matter; the Mei army unintentionally delivered them four ships.

And with the support of the Atlas Group, there is no shortage of advanced technology here, making modification and extension of the ships relatively simpler.

Using comprehensive scanning can obtain the complete structural diagram of the ship. Through analysis and covert support from the Secretary of State, Lille could quickly understand the internal design of the ship.

The modification of the power system was entirely completed with the assistance of workers and robots, all under Lille’s supervision.

The original engine room was extended, replaced by an ultra-small SCFR reactor.

Unlike traditional ships, these ships had to be equipped with complex power circuits to supply power to the power armor and exoskeletons. The main cannon was replaced with an experimental half-plasma gun turret—

basically an enlarged version of a plasma weapon.

Larger coils, longer rails, more heat-resistant and thicker armor plates, and more powerful motors.

When firing, it no longer emitted plasma but rather solid-state shells, which should increase the speed of the shells to several times the speed of sound.

Metallic clanging footsteps echoed from the ship, busy with final inspections.

Most of the workers were local Africans, though just over a month ago, they were pirates.

Tssss—

The end of the exoskeleton arm was equipped with welding tools, with skill chips at the brain-machine interface aiding control, making welding steady.

Judging from the welding result alone, one might think this was an experienced welder with years of practice. But in reality, he was a pirate just a month ago.

The last big heist was stealing the Mei army’s warship.

Abdi finished welding and opened his visor to breathe.

Bang.

Footsteps came from behind. He turned around and saw Lille’s robot.

This robot was different from other engineering robots, carrying no tools but equipped with high-precision sensors to collect information.

Besides checking on the ship’s modification progress, Lille’s second purpose was to meet Abdi.

In name, he was already recognized as the leader of the Somali government by the African Union.

"Hello! Mr. Lee!"

Somali Abdi stood straight, his exoskeleton snapping near his temple as he saluted Lille.

The young man was named Abdi.

"I was a bit busy before, didn’t have time to come. Let’s talk."

Lille turned and walked towards the stairs, preparing for a chat while confirming the ship’s readiness.

Abdi hurriedly followed, feeling a bit anxious.

Lille walked ahead, collecting information while asking, "Any abnormalities since the brain-machine interface was installed?"

"No, everything is fine. I even think about work in my sleep!"

"That’s an abnormality; hyperexcited nerves—haven’t you rested?"

The normal working schedule at Atlas Group was four days a week, one day for checking prosthetics, and two days off.

Of course, voluntary overtime did exist, mostly among people like Abdi.

They gained much yet faced great risks.

Abdi clearly didn’t expect this to be an issue and, after a moment, said, "But I’m not even tired."

"That’s your nerves deceiving you. Using an exoskeleton can give your body false feedback: unimaginable strength and significantly less fatigue. Combined, these create this effect."

"What should I do?" Abdi looked at his hands.

"So willing to listen?" The robot’s eyes blinked. "Increase force feedback; I’ve already adjusted it for you. The relevant guide should also be in your manual."

Abdi suddenly felt his limbs grow much heavier.

This also raised a question: "Isn’t it good to keep working? Why do this?"

"You need to personally experience the world to be human. The psychological pressure of strangling a person face-to-face is different from commanding a dog to bite someone a thousand miles away."

Lille’s words left Abdi confused.

But Lille didn’t elaborate much. The philosophical courses would gradually go online, and they would study them when they wanted.

He wanted to understand Abdi as a person.

"The Somali transitional government does not recognize you. What are you planning to do?"

The Somali transitional government was the former official Somali government.

But its control was extremely weak, barely stronger than the various terrorists and factions on this land.

"They are not fit to be a government!" Abdi said angrily. "They’ve existed for nearly ten years, yet nothing has improved here!

They are too weak, too incompetent, forcing us to become pirates!"

Such vitality?

Lille thought for a moment. It wasn’t unexpected; after all, the kid was only 19 years old.

That’s right, this Abdi was only 19 years old.

However, his words revealed different meanings, suggesting that most pirates wouldn’t so clearly blame the government.

If people didn’t know the benefits of a stable regime, they wouldn’t care about government stability.

"You don’t want to be a pirate."

"Who would want to be a pirate?" Abdi retorted. "I know the outside world looks down on us, seeing us as a plague on the shipping lanes.

But what else can we do in Somalia besides this? We are already the most merciful pirates, only collecting tolls, not kidnapping, not killing, almost never attacking.

I know if pirate activities become rampant enough, merchants will gradually prefer to cover safety costs with travel distance costs.

By then, we won’t even be able to be pirates!"

Lille nodded slightly: "How long have you been doing this? How do you do it?"

"Two and a half... maybe three years." Abdi calculated, then continued, "I use radio to locate merchant ships."

Lille was genuinely surprised and looked back at Abdi.

There were many Somali pirates.

It wouldn’t be known if a tech-savvy pirate emerged here.

Seeing Lille’s reaction, Abdi felt a bit proud: "This saves us a lot of trouble—in reality, it saves a lot of money.

Every penny we collect, I record. I know how much to recruit new people, how much to buy guns.

When you make more than other pirates, you can grow bigger. That’s how I opened a small route.

I told merchants they could pass this route unimpeded if they paid up...

Basically, 99% of ships would choose to cooperate. I even got contact information for quite a few captains.

Mr. Lee, choosing me was the right choice. I understand what knowledge and rules can bring, unlike other pirates or the useless government army.

Those guys only beg the Mei army to go easy on them in exchange for some benefits, but I..."

"Would lead your people to fight those iron soldiers for me?"

They had reached the top of the stairs.

These words made Abdi pause, while Lille didn’t stop and walked onto the deck.

Abdi was a very clever lad, but clever people often had one problem when anxious:

Presumptuousness.

Evidently, Abdi thought Lille needed warriors, people to stand at the forefront of conflicts and die for him.

But was that what he wanted?

From his hesitation, it probably wasn’t.

Lille looked towards the port’s residential area, and Abdi instinctively followed his gaze, unable to immediately figure out the response.

Gellekayu, having experienced war and terror attacks, and massacres, was better described as a densely populated cesspit and ruin than a city and port in Somalia.

People like him, skinny and short, seemed like they’d be blown away by a gust of wind.

But many households hid poorly maintained firearms—perhaps one day, they would join the pirates, driven by the need to survive.

Violence was addictive. When you looked into someone’s terrified eyes, when you owned someone... a person easily lost control.

Living by violence changed things.

Abdi was a local. He had been stolen from and had stolen from others, robbed and robbed others.

His companions had been killed, and he had killed others. Sometimes, a friend was killed today, and tomorrow the killer stood by their side, and interacting, he found no difference from the slain companion.

He loathed such companions and himself, yet felt sorrow for it.

He wanted to live well and... also make his people live well.

More sorrowfully, he tried to escape the situation by reading, using radio to study, gaining some knowledge from chaotic information, enriching his mind, but seeing only a futureless fate.

For survival, robbery became instinct. But in others’ eyes, it was robbery. Through one raid and massacre, he saw clearly:

Either others found ways to bypass here, or someday people wouldn’t tolerate it and sweep them away.

Both outcomes were destructive for them: selling one’s life wasn’t sad. The sad part was that selling it couldn’t even ensure survival.

So he made up his mind—if that’s the case, then sell his life!

"Yes, I..."

"Think carefully before you answer, young man. Selling your life for someone only to die is a dead-end."