Chapter 998 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 998: Resonance "Boom——!" The echo of the explosion reverberated along the alloy walls, filling the dark and silent starship cabin. This is the battlefield, 215 years into the future. Though two centuries late, the "Celestials" finally crossed the body of an unknown soldier to restart the reactor that had slumbered for generations. With the reactor's reactivation, the onboard servers reconnected to power. The lander's shipboard AI rebooted its hacking program, easily seizing control of the starship. However— This moment was, after all, two centuries too late. Soon after the "Celestials" took control of the Orion-class missile cruiser, a silver-gray research vessel came into view. Ordinarily, it wouldn't have posed a threat worth noting. In comparison to the entire "Endgame" plan, it was less significant than a bothersome ant, which a single neutron torpedo could effortlessly dispose of. Yet, an unexpected turn of events occurred. Despite suffering nearly 90% casualties, a crippled old rat managed to infiltrate the ship. It launched an electronic warfare attack on the Orions' onboard servers, forcibly activating the warp engines and setting the ship on a course five light-years away. Watching as the newly acquired starship was about to enter the hyperspace corridor, "Luo Yi" had no choice but to detonate the second neutron torpedo, disrupting the hyperspace jump initiation. Withstanding the effects of the electromagnetic pulse, "Luo Yi," floating in the vacuum, opened its eyes, pressing the jetpack button to continue forward. The damage from the neutron plume on a bionic organism was notably limited; it was scarcely affected. This was why it had no hesitation in detonating two neutron torpedoes consecutively. What it didn't expect was that the small cyborg mouse—first hit by its shot and then caught in the aftermath of the neutron torpedo's explosion—had survived. Not only that. The creature even used this opportunity to distance itself. The electronic warfare invasion on the servers paused only briefly; after switching intrusion nodes, it quickly resumed. Furthermore, the new wave of attacks was noticeably more aggressive than before, with a broader scope! After seizing control of the warp engines and cutting off the weapon systems’ circuits, it now reached for the starship's anti-gravity device. However, its luck ran out here. Just now, with the aid of the Orion’s onboard AI, "Luo Yi" was able to pinpoint the data interface used by the intruding party for electronic warfare. Amusingly, the data interface this little mouse used was the very same landing craft shot from the Gemini to the Orion missile cruiser, over 200 years prior. It was only recently that "Luo Yi" had helped the landing craft's AI restart the Orion missile cruiser's reactor, gaining control of its onboard server. Attempting to use their hardware and the same "landing point" as them? Truly overconfident. Facing the well-like corridor, "Luo Yi" floated forward, nervously tensing its synthetic nerves as it observed the exoskeleton wreckage drifting through the corridor. Yet, the corpse made no move to attack, simply continuing its silent journey past. As it watched the remains drift away, a sudden realization prompted it to speak. "... There's one thing I've never understood." "I’d be honored to resolve your confusion." A gentle voice entered its signal reception module. This was the shipboard AI designed by the Gemini for the companion Orion and also an early version of the "Navigator" AI at the Lagrange Space Station. "Luo Yi" held its silence for a moment, its emotionless eyes uncharacteristically hinting at confusion. "The person we encountered in the power room earlier, that electrical engineer... why did he cut the reactor's power?" The Navigator pondered this for a long time before softly replying. "Indeed... why?" This was not only "Luo Yi's" perplexity but the Navigator's greatest enigma over the past 200 years. 215 years ago, just as it breached the firewall and seized control of the ship, someone manually severed the power in the engine room. Logically, this shouldn't have been possible. Even if the neutron plume hadn't killed them instantly, it would render everyone aboard—from command to execution—incapable of action. In a situation with no help in sight, a human's instinct would surely lean towards self-preservation; never would they think to deactivate a reactor. Unless... That individual, in such extreme danger without any orders, impulsively and without hesitation, chose to do just that. But why? Why make such a decision? This question has puzzled the Navigator for 200 years, without a clear resolution. Yet, regardless of the mystery. History was altered by someone seemingly insignificant. And because of this, the "Celestials" had to wait another 200 years. "I thought you could provide an answer." The Navigator answered gently. "Not all questions have answers. Perhaps it was a flash of inspiration or some innate instinct. We can only say... there's no 'if' in history." "……" Even an all-knowing Navigator is stumped by certain questions. "Luo Yi" drifted onward, advancing towards the desperately struggling small mouse. Was it just an illusion? Since the collision of the silver-gray research vessel with the starship, everything aboard seemed set against him, steering events into unforeseen directions. This included the corridor. A mere 200 meters, yet darker and longer than anticipated. This was once his home, and he came to save them... yet his comrades treated him as a foe. Every corpse here appeared to oppose him, like wild-growing seaweed in the deep ocean, attempting to entangle his oar. The impenetrable darkness was like an entryway to the abyss; aside from the light emitted from his own being, there was no glimmer of illumination. So dark. Too dark... "Boom——!" 215 years earlier, on the battlefield. Deafening explosions shook every compartment of the Orion missile cruiser. In an instant, over 2,700 crew members perished, leaving only 227 survivors. Shortly thereafter, widespread power failures occurred, accompanied by flashing red alerts across various zones. "Woo—!" The undulating alarm drew long and far, with the rapidly depleting air. Nonetheless, the remaining 227 crew members showed not a trace of panic. Before the alarms blared, upon hearing the initial explosion, they acted as if they'd heard a starter pistol. Just as they had rehearsed countless times. Facing inevitable death, they universally chose to abandon rescue and survival fantasies, embracing their fate calmly. Not just that. They pledged to utilize their remaining time to leave behind the sword to kill ghosts for the children who would venture into this tomb 200 years hence. Observing hair and skin flake away like a collapsing sandcastle, Lin Youyou, seated in the duty room, smiled self-deprecatingly. "...From now on, I'm part of the burning corps too." Blood trickled from her nostrils, dropping one by one onto the desk. She felt as though every cell in her body was aflame, life ebbing away visibly... No time for hesitation. Death's scythe hovered at her neck. Shoving away the chair, Lin Youyou stood, enduring searing pain, supporting herself against the desk’s edge. She stumbled past her already "sleeping" colleagues, lurching into the blinking-light-filled med bay. Flipping open the cabinet storing hemostatic gel, she grabbed a stash for herself, hurriedly exiting, rushing towards the explosion site. Her patient awaited her on that lander— The girl destined to arrive at the starship 200 years later! In that nonexistent timeline, she had assured her in person that she would heal her! Gazing upon the flashing red afterimage of the alert, Lin recognized time was scarce, thus she activated the recorder in her pocket, speaking hastily as she advanced. "My time is short, so I'll be brief. Listen closely..." "Regarding the thawing process for hemostatic gel..." … At the same moment Lin Youyou was rushing to the site of the explosion, Koala was busy in Workshop No. 4, completing the final creation of his life. It was a robot, modified from a magnetic levitation repair drone. Its round body was fitted with two mechanical arms, mainly functioning with magnetic control components, its appearance resembling something as unsightly as a college graduate project. In the absence of gravity and air in outer space, this was probably the only drone that could operate properly. As for things like a robotic vacuum cleaner, once the artificial gravity device was shut down, they would be useless—either sucked out of the starship by extreme negative pressure or left hovering helplessly in midair. Koala had considered arming it with impressive weaponry, but he simply didn’t have the time to fetch combat prosthetics from the armory. All he could do was equip it with ten smart guidance programs designed by engineers, set to help her seize control of the warp engines over two hundred years later and guide her to the origin point of this battle... Which was also where the two timelines converged. Koala grinned as he admired his somewhat dopey-looking creation. "…Who’d have thought the last project of my life would be such an ugly thing, hehe." Blood dripped from his nose and mouth onto the robot's body. He instinctively raised an arm to wipe it, but the blood only flowed more profusely, likely due to negative pressure. Realizing that the bleeding was unstoppable, Koala didn't bother to address it. He just patted the round body of the robot, leaving a sticky, bloody imprint on it. "Please, my little Koala... I didn’t have time to give you a decent name." "Anyway, I'm counting on you..." As he uttered these words, he finally drew his last breath. Watching its creator expire right before its cameras, the rounded little Koala robot shifted its lens slightly before entering sleep mode as planned, beginning its long wait. This wait would last— A full 215 years! The raging neutron plume pierced through the sleeping starship, and the long-awaited explosion jolt reawakened the dormant little Koala. Following its set program, it disconnected the external power source. Propelled by magnetism, its rotund body gently floated up, nudging aside the decayed cadaver, exiting Workshop No. 4 to float towards the site of another collision incident. This was the cafeteria on the lower deck. True to its owner's information, a silver-gray research vessel had rammed through the corroded steel armor, its twisted cockpit embedded within the wall. With its mechanical arms reaching out, it tore open the warped alloy door, revealing a girl in a spacesuit. She lay atop a stasis pod, seemingly unconscious, her lips moving slightly as if muttering something. Such a pitiful sight. Much like its creator. But, likely due to numerous prosthetic modifications, the earlier neutron plume had failed to kill her. Under the tug of magnetism, the little Koala floated to Jiang Xuezhou's side, gently tapping her helmet to rouse wavering consciousness. "Hey, wake up." Jiang Xuezhou slowly opened her blurred eyes, dry lips moving. "Who... are you?" She couldn't see anything, only sensing a figure standing in front of her. A rusted handprint marked the round body. It seemed like dried blood. However— This creature didn't seem to be an enemy. For if it were, it wouldn't bother waking her. The figure before her pondered for a moment before connecting to her communication channel. "Me? My creator called me Little Koala... Though I probably have a nicer name, he said he didn’t have time to give me one. Maybe you could do that for him." Koala... Jiang Xuezhou's eyes widened slightly. The name sounded so familiar. She felt a strong sense of déjà vu as if she had heard it somewhere before, but couldn't recall exactly. Which made sense. Though they had met over 200 years ago, and not just once, this meeting hadn't yet occurred in her timeline. At this moment, the first neutron torpedo had just exploded recently, and the Orion missile cruiser sat steadily in Earth's synchronous orbit. Nearly an hour remained before she would open the hyperspace corridor and enter a superposition state... "Have we... met somewhere?" Noticing her confusion, Little Koala produced a sound reminiscent of clinking metal. "Of course, we have seen you, and we will meet again... we've been waiting for you for a long time." It really knew her! Jiang Xuezhou's eyes flew open wide. Not just her eyes. She pushed herself up from the cold stasis pod, floating slowly up, casting a hopeful glance at the strange robot. "Please help us... someone wants to kill us, not just us, but many will die..." Her opponents were the "Celestials" who had seized control of the starship, and the Burn Corps assisting her was nearly obliterated. Faced with despair, she was on the brink of giving up—or had even already done so. Contrary to Yet Shi's imagination, she was never particularly strong, let alone resilient. She was merely an ordinary person, gifted in her specialized field and well-educated and trained. Dragging the unconscious Yet Shi into the stasis pod with her limited strength wasn’t a calculated plan, merely hoping the "Celestials" would spare someone from the sanctuary. She knew the thought was naive, but couldn't help comforting herself with it. Even if just one survives... But just as she was about to succumb to sleep, a lifeline suddenly appeared before her. This lifeline abruptly reminded her that she wasn’t alone, rekindling a desire to live. It wasn't over yet. She wasn't dead! He wasn't either... Watching the girl rise from the stasis pod, Little Koala nudged its rotund body, speaking in a gentle electronic tone. "I'm here to help you." With that, it turned, extending a mechanical hand to her. "Grab it, stay behind me..." "Before the ghost catches you." The race against the phantom had begun. This would be a relay spanning two centuries, and the runner from the year 215 had just received the baton from 227 fallen comrades. Grasping Little Koala's mechanical hand, Jiang Xuezhou kept close, navigating the corridor as dark as a deep well. Perhaps inexplicably. She had always been afraid of the dark. Especially this claustrophobic, narrow darkness that would have immobilized her with fear, let alone when a lurking menace haunted the starship. Yet now, she felt surprisingly fearless, even letting the self-proclaimed Little Koala lead her toward the unknown. Despite stepping into this tomb for the first time, she felt a haunting sense of past familiarity. Is this... what they call “intuition”? Night Shi often bragged about sensing impending danger. She had always remained skeptical of things beyond scientific explanation, but now those doubts began to waver. Perhaps it's not beyond science, just that current theories don’t cover it... For instance, right now. An inexplicable intuition told her that maybe "new theories" lay right before her. As she pondered this mystery, Little Koala leading ahead suddenly remembered something, speaking softly. "If you're scared, let me know, my owner prepared a few songs for you." "...Maybe not, music right now would be a bit creepy," Jiang Xuezhou replied, shrinking her neck. "Is that so? Alright then, it seems my creator did something unnecessary." Watching the round metal body, Jiang Xuezhou nervously voiced the question pent-up in her heart. "Where... are we going?" Little Koala replied gently. "To the nearest data interface, I need you to hack into the starship's warp engines." "Hack into this starship's warp engine?!" Jiang Xuezhou's eyes widened in disbelief. "Is your creator... serious?!" This was a United Planets missile cruiser, after all! Though she had dabbled in some aerospace archeology, hacking into a missile cruiser's warp engine seemed a tad too ambitious. Sensing her surprise, Little Koala, leading the way, offered a gentle smile. "Don't worry, we've prepared a surprise for our adversaries in the warp engine... rest assured, the coordinates for initiating the hyperspace corridor are already calculated. The key is in the lock, all you need to do is give it a gentle turn. I'm confident it won't be too challenging for you." With those words, Jiang Xuezhou finally felt a wave of relief, muttering a quiet thanks. "Thank you... that was very thoughtful of you all." Little Koala chuckled, a sound resembling tinkling wind chimes distorted in tone. "You're welcome." "My creator said we could never let our children face the ghosts of the bygone era alone." … As Little Koala had said, its creator and comrades had prepared everything, leaving her the simple task of turning the key already in place. With a shudder resembling a land-quaking tremor, the starship, which had slept for two centuries, rose like a waking dragon, emitting a silent roar in the boundless void. Everything went according to plan. But just as Jiang Xuezhou was about to disconnect from the data interface, "Luo Yi" finally traced her and emptied its magazine in her direction. A battle erupted in the narrow corridor. While the Orion's space combat team left equipment near the data interface, unfortunately, Jiang Xuezhou was no match for "Luo Yi," and took a shot to the abdomen. The spherical creature was no battle droid; it merely used magnetic components to hurl nearby metal debris at Luo Yi, covering Jiang Xuezhou's retreat. Perhaps this too was destined. Its creator hadn't detailed future occurrences, nor predicted she'd be shot. Before Luo Yi seized its head, it transmitted a map leading to the lower deck's gym to the escaping girl. It was the collision site between the Gemini lander and the Orion cruiser. A stasis pod awaited there, along with one final operational data interface. Moreover, it was the very same interface once used to breach this starship's server firewall! She would use this proverbial sword embedded in the starship's heart for one last strike against the ghost haunting this tomb! Just moments ago, while leveraging the data interface to infiltrate the warp engine, the firewall-breaching data packets were uploaded to her brain’s bionic chip via the engine control room’s cache servers. "The engine is online... follow the AR guidance to the map's coordinates, where a lander with a stasis pod awaits..." Sealing her spacesuit's tear with emergency tape, Jiang Xuezhou painstakingly made her way through the half-open hatch. Hearing the voice in her comms channel, she could spare no thought for Little Koala’s condition, hastily inquiring, "What's next... what else must I do?!" Sounds of clanging echoed through the bulkheads, followed by a fragmented voice across the channel. "Lie inside... connect the cable to your neural interface... then you have nothing more to do, leave the rest to us... it'll be fine." Jiang Xuezhou asked blindly. "...Leave it... to you?" Were there others here? The channel offered a fragmented yet unwavering reply. "Yes... trust us... we won't let you face the harshest future alone." That was its final message left to this world. Having slumbered in this icy tomb for over two centuries, it fulfilled the mission entrusted by its creator. "Why?!" Having burst through the debris blockade, "Luo Yi" roared in fury, seizing Little Koala’s head. It tore off the laughably rudimentary camera and sensors, then swung a titanium blade down, cleaving the ancient robot in two. Staring at the wreckage integrated into the debris, it bellowed with every ounce of strength. "Why do you oppose me! Why!!!" Because of these fools, they had languished in darkness for 200 agonizing years! And now these cold dead fools still sought to obstruct them! This was not just Luo Yi’s outrage. It was also the Navigators’, and indeed, all the "Celestials'” fury! Yet their roars could not stop the bullet fired over 200 years ago. Ultimately, the warp engine concluded its charge. The smart virus embedded in the server was powerless against the now-active engine, unable to do anything but watch helplessly as the hyperspace corridor opened once more after two centuries. "Luo Yi," however, pinned its hopes on the second neutron torpedo being loaded. A missile over a dozen meters long slid off the launch rack. Amidst a blinding flare, the searing neutron plume unleashed instantaneously! And almost simultaneously, a voiceless roar rent time and space, with myriad lights converging upon an infinitesimal, nearly invisible point, carrying vast mass and piercing through space in an instant. From Earth's vantage point, the starship, several kilometers long, seemed to vanish into thin air, leaping to Alpha Centauri five light-years away in an instant. Just prior, Jiang Xuezhou lay in the stasis pod, watching the lid close slowly, eyes gently shutting. By the time the neutron plume swept across, she was already in cryosleep. Ultra-cold polymers maintained maximum structural stability, reducing the organic damage from the neutron plume considerably. Her consciousness drifted into slumber. Yet the bionic chip in her brain continued its work. A thin data cable connected at her neck, transmitting chip data into the stasis pod, which acted as a bridge, extending to the Gemini lander. Through the latter’s invasion bridge, it seeped into the Orion’s server. Two parallel timelines intersected at this moment, exchanging vast streams of information in resonance between two unrelated quantum states. From the dimensions of space and time, they never truly made contact, and an encounter was impossible. However, their series of unwavering, decisive choices were as if orchestrated. Indeed, they were orchestrated. For they all wholeheartedly believed... … Back to 215 years prior. With energy finally exhausted, the red alert lights ceased their flashing, leaving the starship as silent as death. Dragging an ever-heavier body, Luo Yi, clad in powered armor, pried the twisted hatch open, single-handedly hauling the stasis pod into the empty cockpit. Unsurprisingly, Luo Yi was perhaps the longest-living among the 227 survivors. Possibly due to extensive augmentations, the neutron plume's lethality was unexpectedly mild, allowing him this longevity. However, nearing his own end, Luo Yi knew his time was short. As Dr. Wu had noted, the lander housed not a soul, not even a single chair. The Gemini crew had abandoned their flesh before attacking, becoming something else entirely. Yes. They had already become "Celestials." Soon, those at the Lagrange Space Station would undergo a similar transformation. Subsequently, events would unfold as told by that child—"history," after all. Unexpectedly, a dying man learned so many things he otherwise never would have known. In that sense, he was fortunate. Eyeing the stasis pod in the cockpit, Luo Yi grinned, exhaling one last breath, no longer bearing much warmth. This was probably the final piece in the puzzle. They had done all they could, leaving the rest to those who would enter this tomb 215 years hence. Just as Luo Yi prepared to find a seat and await death’s arrival, something crossed his mind. No, there was still one final matter. "If 'I' were me... ‘I’ definitely wouldn’t leave me be, hehe." With this thought, he rose again, holding onto the open hatchway and floated back out. If it were "me," driven by some sense of identity recognition, I'd definitely try to find my own remains. If that guy were to discover this place and see the stasis pod, our plan could fall apart... In simple terms, he needed to die in an easily discoverable spot. To prevent complications, Luo Yi returned to the duty room, closed the hatch, undressed from the powered armor, and climbed into the emergency stasis pod. This chemically powered emergency stasis pod could potentially sustain for about fifty years, but given his current state of being barely alive, waking up in fifty years might only mean facing death again, or perhaps not waking at all. In this regard, the wastelanders had it tough yet advantageous, installing any prosthetics they could, sacrificing some flesh but ultimately becoming more "durable." He suddenly found himself admiring that kid. With vision increasingly blurred by bloodshot eyes, Luo Yi, lying in the stasis pod, clutched his dog tags tightly, exhaling his final breath. "Please——" "Stop the other 'me'!" (Thanks to "Stardust20190920" for the alliance leader reward!!!) Recommended reading a new book - the author is quite the cosplayer, check it out if interested. To be continued...