The closer they got to the Sun Corona, the more oppressive its presence became. When Lu Yuan finally caught sight of it, the pitch-black warship filled his entire field of vision. No matter where he looked, all he saw was the solid armor plating of the colossal vessel.
The densely arranged contour lights resembled a thousand unblinking eyes of this cold and ruthless entity. Of course, comparing the Sun Corona to an ancient deity was, in a way, an underestimation of its true might.
Outside the window, countless drones buzzed around, tirelessly maintaining the ship's external facilities. Each of these "worker bees" was no smaller than the spaceplane Lu Yuan was riding in, and the number of astronaut engineers deployed daily to repair the exterior components was staggering.
"Attention, docking with the lead craft will begin in one minute. All personnel, please remain seated," the pilot reminded them. Lu Yuan felt the vibrations under his feet cease, signaling that the spaceplane's engines had powered down. Soon, two flat, square-shaped lead crafts approached from either side of the plane, extending electromagnetic tethers to latch onto it. The auxiliary thrusters at the corners of the lead crafts engaged, swiftly guiding them toward the Sun Corona's hangar.
After passing through the hangar's magnetic field airlock, the spaceplane joined a queue of various ships waiting to dock. But this posed no issue—they were now permitted to board the Sun Corona's internal shuttle.
Behind Lu Yuan, the paratroopers were lined up in a crooked, disheveled row, yawning incessantly. These men, still covered in dust and grime from the battlefield, wore their exhaustion like a second skin. Lu Yuan rubbed his slightly reddened eyes and noticed a senior officer standing nearby, wearing the insignia of Central Command. "The dust on the surface was pretty heavy," Lu Yuan said, forcing a smile.
"We all serve the Alliance, Captain," the officer nodded. He was so tall that he had to slightly look down at Lu Yuan, and from this angle, Lu Yuan could easily see a dark birthmark partially hidden in the shadow of his cap.
"Yes, Colonel," Lu Yuan responded. The officer's voice sounded familiar, but Lu Yuan couldn't quite place where he had heard it before. He rarely encountered these high-ranking officers from Central Command—those who, in his experience, wouldn't bother to dirty their boots with field work.
Not wanting to ask further, Lu Yuan fell into silence as the two vessels docked. The senior officer adjusted his cap, the silver braided eagle emblem gleaming brightly. With a detached tone, he said, "I hope your sacrifices will be worth it. Goodbye, Captain Lu." With that, he boarded his exclusive shuttle and left.
Lu Yuan was puzzled as to how the officer had recognized him—his uniform had no name tag or identifying markers. Pushing the thought aside, he led the paratroopers onto the shuttle, heading for the garrison.
The mobile division's garrison for the 28th Paratrooper Battalion was eerily quiet. The massive assembly field only had a few ground tanks standing guard. The surface battles on Eagle Valley Star were a matter of life and death for the fleet, leaving no room for the mobile division to hold back any combat-ready equipment.
This was as close to "home" as it got. Lu Yuan found a cushioned chair and collapsed into it, waving to Sergeant Yue Dong to take the paratroopers back to their quarters. Once everyone was gone, Lu Yuan buried his head in his hands, sitting in silence for a long time. It was unclear what he was thinking—perhaps he was simply letting his mind go blank.
It wasn't until a ground crew member found him and handed him a warm towel that Lu Yuan snapped out of his daze. He breathed deeply, savoring the scent of the towel, and thanked the crew member. He then asked them to fetch some clean clothes from his room—he didn't want the stench of dirt and sweat following him into the only place where he could truly relax.
After changing into his crisp, freshly pressed uniform, Lu Yuan's energy and spirit returned. Without hesitation, he pulled out a steel flask from his inner pocket and took a few hearty swigs. Then, in an act of generosity, he handed the flask to the crew member. The young man stood there, flask in hand, unsure whether to toss it or keep it, and finally called after Lu Yuan, "Hey! Where are you going?!"
"To the military court!" Lu Yuan shouted back without turning around.
Everyone knew the Sun Corona was massive. Just to accommodate the daily transport of its more than 500,000 personnel, the ship had an intricate network of magnetic levitation railways crisscrossing throughout. While the combat troops were deployed, this didn't interfere with the routine operations of the administrative and engineering staff.
Lu Yuan ignored the curious looks from passersby. He flashed a smile at a nearby clerk, a woman in a crisp navy-blue uniform, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to her. Lighting up, he let the smoke, mixed with the scent of alcohol, waft over her pristine attire.
While the military police searched every station looking for him, Lu Yuan found a blind spot in the surveillance system and calmly smoked a few more cigarettes. This was one of the few small joys that came with not having a colonel's rank—so long as he hadn't had an AI chip implanted, Lu Yuan could still give the military police the slip. He had even eluded the gendarmes a few times before.
But no matter how rebellious he was, once he approached the bridge, Lu Yuan knew better than to act out. The bridge handled all matters concerning the ship, and as the flagship, the Sun Corona had an additional command structure that reported directly to Fleet Marshal Rufa Xiang. The guards here were elite soldiers trained in combat exoskeletons—the defense was nothing short of rigorous.
Fortunately, Lu Yuan didn't need to enter the central bridge, nor did he have the clearance. Instead, he made his way to the military court, where the receptionist recognized him immediately. "What'd you do this time, Captain? Gambling again, or was it drinking on duty?" the receptionist teased. But when Lu Yuan revealed the nature of his offense, the receptionist gave him a thumbs-up, saying Lu Yuan had guts to come report himself rather than waiting for the military police to drag him in.
But Lu Yuan's hope of quickly getting his punishment over with was dashed. The receptionist informed him that this wasn't a minor infraction and would need to go before a disciplinary review board. In other words, Lu Yuan wouldn't be able to sweep this one under the rug like he had in the past.
With a sigh, Lu Yuan left the military court. He stretched lazily under the artificial sunlight—compared to the barren, dust-filled planets where you'd need a respirator to breathe, the Sun Corona's artificial ecosystem was paradise.
As Lu Yuan stretched, he noticed a figure in the distance—the same officer with the handcuffed briefcase, the one with the birthmark. It seemed that no matter where they went, Central Command officers always had a commanding presence. As the officer drew closer, Lu Yuan's sharp eyes caught the nameplate freshly pinned to his chest: Colonel Lu Yunzhong, Central Staff.
Lu Yunzhong? The name instantly triggered a memory of the order Lu Yuan had received, telling him to do whatever it took to disable the Ivan the Terrible mech. Lu Yuan was puzzled. Why was a staff officer from Central Command present at the front lines of the fierce battle on Eagle Valley?
The confusion passed quickly—Lu Yuan had no interest in digging deeper. He watched coldly as Colonel Lu entered the core bridge, surrounded by guards. Lu Yuan followed orders, but that didn't mean he had to like the ones that sent him and his brothers to their deaths.
Feeling dejected, Lu Yuan returned to the paratroopers' quarters. Alone, he washed up and began writing death notices for the soldiers who had fallen in the Eagle Valley Star battle. The number was staggering, making his heart ache. One by one, he penned down the names of the deceased, locking the thick stack of envelopes in a safe. Hundreds of letters, each one representing despair, awaited Lu Yuan's hand to deliver them personally. He stared blankly at a photograph on his desk, a group portrait of smiling, bright-eyed young men, all full of life.
In this desolate region of space, where two suns rose and set in opposite directions, days passed without any review of Lu Yuan's case. Instead, news arrived that the remnants of the paratroopers would be merged into a new battalion, with Lu Yuan appointed as the interim commander. Upon reading the order, he crumpled it into a ball, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Gradually, the garrison came back to life as paratroopers returned from the blood-soaked battles. The first thing every survivor did was sleep for a full day and night. Lu Yuan often sat alone in front of the assembly field's holographic screen, never without a cigarette or a drink. He watched as the towering monument to the fallen took shape in space—a structure of six curved wings, resembling marble, each one soaked in the blood of soldiers. And yet, it was the only solace they had.
Home.
Lu Yuan recalled the moment of departure, gazing at the colossal rotating Light Monument above Zhoshen Star. Every time a warship entered the light monument's pulsation point, a streak of blue acceleration light would shoot out, crossing tens of thousands of miles. The six stabilizing wings of the monument would expand to their limits, just barely accommodating the *Corona*. That scene, like the Milky Way descending from the heavens, was etched into history and into the heart of every soldier journeying far from home.
The swirling vortex within the monument possessed a boundless allure, keeping Lu Yuan's gaze fixed until his eyes burned with dryness. He noticed a darkened patch in the rear area of the monument growing fainter, scanning the real-time jump data on the screen. He rubbed his messy beard with a self-mocking chuckle and took a swig of his drink, missing the fleet of warships speeding past.
"By the universal truth of all things, we pledge our loyalty to the nation, with unwavering devotion and love, my love is offered with all my heart..." Lu Yuan softly hummed a tune that every citizen of the Galactic Alliance learned as their first song in childhood. A few scattered paratroopers nearby joined in, keeping pace with the rhythm.
"This resolve knows no regret, this conviction fears no test..." Passing soldiers began to sing along, placing their hands over their hearts as they looked up at the solemn Galactic Alliance eagle emblem on the wall. They paid no heed to the *Corona* slowly changing course or the cruiser escorting it, sprinting ahead and aiming warily at the expanding jump area behind the monument.
"Of that mighty, distant land, we have long heard tales, those who admire it honor it as kin, those who know it recognize its greatness..." They were equally unaware that, at that very moment, someone on the bridge was also softly singing this song, moments before surrendering.
"To defend the land, not by numbers, but by an unyielding spirit; fortresses are built with steadfast hearts, and sacrifice becomes their glory..." Many paratroopers wept uncontrollably. On the eve of their return home, so many comrades had been lost. Once the jump zone of the monument was fully extended, the fleet would begin its journey back, leaving behind tens of thousands of young men who had shed their blood, lost in a star system they would never return from, their traces gone forever.
Before the song ended, sorrow had already taken over. Lu Yuan turned, wiping away the tears from his eyes. He couldn't let the soldiers see their commander's vulnerable side. As he turned, he suddenly froze, staring at a corner of the holographic display. A fleet was emerging from the Light Monument? Ship number 49? That was the flagship of the decoy fleet from years ago! What was that? It's firing!
Red lights flashed urgently, alarms blared, and a hurried emergency broadcast echoed throughout the ship: "Enemy fleet sighted!"
"Battle stations!!!"