Blackstone Code-Chapter 667: Lynch’s Way of Persuasion

While the investigator with the greenish face was caught up in trouble, Lynch was having dinner with a Federal Senator.

They had chosen a very exclusive location. The restaurant was empty except for their table, attended by three people. Outside the window stretched the night view of Eminence—city lights, the starry sky, and the landscape fused into a perfect panorama.

This private restaurant, perched on a mountain slope, charged a price for each meal that could give an average household breadwinner a heart attack.

Apart from Lynch and Mr. Truman, the only other guest at the table was a senator who also served on the Military Appropriations Committee.

The Federal Congress had numerous committees, but among the upper chamber, the Military Appropriations Committee stood out. Its main task was to review the Defense Department and military’s annual budget proposals—approving some, rejecting others. If the military wanted money—especially large sums—they had to persuade the majority of this committee.

This process was deeply murky, though the true taxpayers remained unaware. Roughly 2–5% of the approved funds were typically funneled back to each committee member through various means.

For example, a senator might only entertain lobbying efforts from a specific group, which just so happened to be run by his relatives—or even his own son. To win his support, one had to hire that group. The cost of that hire depended on the size of the budget the military wanted approved.

This sort of dark operation was neither hidden nor subtle. It was done openly, right under the public eye—and the public simply ignored it.

Those who knew wouldn’t speak, and those who didn’t would never understand why senators rejected funding proposals—usually, it was just because the payoff was too small. But, of course, that’s just a joke—everyone knows senators work tirelessly for the freedom and well-being of the Federation.

In any case, being on the Military Appropriations Committee was a powerful position. Major military-industrial corporations needed its approval to get their weapons listed in procurement catalogs and eventually sold to the military.

To achieve that, they would do everything possible to persuade each member—after all, it was a huge business.

Every committee member, devoting their life to the nation, worked hard. How they ended up wealthy was another story.

Take the senator across from Lynch. His outfit alone was worth over fifty thousand federal sols—not worthless Valier currency.

According to current federal minimum wage laws, a non-skilled laborer earned a minimum of 241 sols per month, slightly more than before. That meant they’d earn around 3,000 a year—requiring 17–18 years without food or drink to afford the senator’s suit.

Worse yet, this was just one of many such suits in the senator’s wardrobe. He could casually cost another person decades of sustenance—just by changing clothes.

Of course, such sacrifices are noble—for the freedom of the Federation and the equality of its people.

“I’ve heard of the project,” the senator said between bites of his extravagant meal. “The committee passed it, but some of us think it’s not the right time to launch it.”

He was referring to a project the Navy had proposed. In the naval battle against Gephra, they identified numerous issues—low overall training quality among sailors, design flaws in key warships, and so on.

It was only natural to apply for military funds to address these problems.

However, not every project got approved easily. Committee members didn’t always say yes for a bribe. Sometimes, they showed restraint—mainly to avoid giving political opponents ammo to attack them.

The current topic was a research plan involving aircraft.

In long-range and beyond-visual-range targeting, the Navy still had significant room for improvement—it just wasn’t good enough.

The Navy believed this gap couldn’t be closed through drills or acting alone. Real battlefield performance relied on experience, not rote memorization—though that helped too.

Was there a way to compensate for this weakness?

Yes—by turning beyond-visual-range into visual range. Observation balloons were one method, but they didn’t fly high enough and had too many limitations.

So attention returned to aircraft. Some civilian flight technologies had matured enough to perform aerial reconnaissance.

The Maritime Reconnaissance Carrier project emerged from this idea and was approved. In short, it proposed building a lightweight, low-cost engineering vessel without major offensive capabilities—just a floating runway for aircraft to take off and land.

Such a ship would be relatively fast, easy to maintain, and could even drift if necessary.

In wartime, aircraft could relay intel via onboard radio and provide corrected coordinates for long-range artillery.

But the committee thought it was a joke. Aircraft already crashed constantly on land—now someone wanted to land them on a rocking ship at sea? Whoever proposed this had to be out of their mind.

They considered the whole concept ridiculous. Aircraft tech was nowhere near mature enough for military use. The project reeked of corruption.

The military had pulled similar stunts before. During the escapist era, they suffered from paranoia and pushed through many absurd projects, mostly greenlit due to political climate.

One such project was the construction of a southern defense line—intended to repel invasions from the south. It wasted massive funds and served no purpose, yet still demanded annual maintenance expenses.

More and more groups had started accusing the committee of colluding with the military for profit.

Given the current political climate and the upcoming elections, it was best not to approve any project that appeared unreliable. Even small issues could be blown out of proportion.

The Conservative Party had given up on the presidential race, but they still fought for seats in Congress.

The senator’s flat rejection didn’t disappoint Lynch. “Anything of value shouldn’t be dismissed. I firmly believe aircraft will dominate future battlefields.”

The senator smiled but said nothing further. He had heard too many such claims—every new thing was supposed to dominate the battlefield. Mere words wouldn’t persuade him.

Lynch wasn’t just here for himself and Truman; he was also lobbying on behalf of the military. Their project was stuck, and Lynch had taken it upon himself to push it through.

He only needed to sway a few key figures to change the entire committee’s stance—and the man in front of him was one of them.

Casually twirling his fork, Lynch said, “You might not know, but I’ve invested fifteen million to establish an aircraft research company.”

The senator smiled politely. “That has nothing to do with me, Lynch.” His tone was firm and slightly suggestive. “If you really want to push this project, I’d advise waiting until after the election. Congress will be more stable then. Right now, some people are making a lot of noise.”

Lynch remained unfazed and continued, “Your son will be one of the shareholders in this company.”

The senator froze, frowning. “You shouldn’t be doing this…”

Lynch took a bite of his food. As he chewed, juices squeezed out from the meat fibers—some called it myoglobin, but to him, it was just blood. Cow’s blood.

As he chewed, his white teeth occasionally revealed a faint pink tint. He set down his knife and fork and looked at the senator. “You might not know your son very well. He has an extraordinary—divinely enviable—talent for aircraft design. Out of respect for knowledge, I’m willing to offer five percent equity in exchange for this design.”

The senator’s previously stern expression flickered for a moment. His displeasure vanished, replaced by a hint of guilt.

“You know, I’ve always been busy—either in the office or in my study. I’ve neglected my family’s feelings and never realized he had such talent in this area…”

“I respect their choices, but I won’t offer you any special treatment just because my family is involved. That’s not how I operate.”

Lynch nodded slightly. “I understand. I only brought it up to avoid any surprises later on. You know, timely communication ensures there are no misunderstandings between us.”

The senator rested his fists on the table and tapped his fingers a few times, as if reaching a decision. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you any more help on this matter.”

“Oh, right. What was the name of that project you mentioned earlier?”