"Captain, all information provided is accurate."
The cold, mechanical voice of the AI struck Lu Yuan like a bullet to the forehead, shattering his fleeting clarity and leaving his mind a foggy mess. The phrase "sole survivor" echoed endlessly in his head.
Lu Yuan clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. After years in service, following the fleet from its launch on Eos to distant campaigns, he'd faced every kind of predicament. During the Sentinel campaign, they lost four cruisers in rapid succession; he and his brothers held High Ground 241.3 for over three months without supplies or reinforcements. They survived. In the battle of Thunder Planet, a navigation error dropped his entire regiment in the ocean, forcing everyone to swim ashore clinging to drop pods before resuming the fight. They survived. At the Citadel, they held off an entire Imperial mech regiment. They survived. But now, this broken piece of junk was telling him he was the only one left alive.
The only one left alive!
Suppressing his rising anger, Lu Yuan refused to believe a single word from the AI. Why should he? It was probably an Imperial-controlled system, attempting to lure him into defection. Lu Yuan was a top cadet at Academy 31, a battle-tested Iron Rider; he wouldn't fall for cheap tricks.
Without wasting more words, he didn't wait for the so-called "power transfer" to open the door. He grabbed his short sword and smashed the broadcast console, silencing the AI. Then, wedging the sword's sheath in the door crack, he forced the door open.
Cautiously, Lu Yuan poked his head out. The corridor beyond was dark and silent, with only a few emergency lights flickering in the distance. He licked his lips and slowly unsheathed his sword, its cold glint steadying his nerves. He exhaled, then slipped out of the cryo chamber.
Touching the walls as he moved, he wiped away a thick layer of dust—dry and coarse to the touch, with a faint salty smell. Lu Yuan deduced that the ship might be grounded or wrecked on a vast desert. If it had crashed on an ammonia-rich frozen planet like Eagle Valley, he would have passed out in the unpressurized, freezing hallway by now.
At least the landing environment wasn't that bad, he thought.
Navigating awkwardly through the unfamiliar Xiyun frigate was difficult. These small ships had cramped designs due to their antimatter fusion cores, unlike the sprawling corridors of battleships. But size had its advantages; critical areas were usually close together. Still, Lu Yuan didn't rush to the bridge—it was likely the first target if enemies had boarded. In the ship's current state, he'd be of little help there anyway. Better to survey the area and look for any remaining crew.
With no helmet, comms, or anti-gravity gear, Lu Yuan had no choice but to crawl through the corridor, navigating by the red glow of emergency lights and occasionally using his watch face to reflect light and gauge his position.
Strangely, all his personal effects were intact. However, strict protocols prohibited bringing items into cryo chambers—one was only allowed to wear a thin layer of clothing. If hit by fluctuations during traversal, objects might break down and turn into hazardous dust that could infiltrate airways and cause organ failure over the years. Judging by the preservation of his cryo fluid, he estimated his sleep lasted six to eight years, but he couldn't gauge how far the Xiyun had traveled. Navigation through the Beacon was highly variable, especially in a hasty wartime jump. They could have been thrown hundreds or even thousands of light-years away.
Putting these thoughts aside, he focused on finding his crewmates, knowing that the answers would come naturally. Squinting at the dim emergency map, he spotted a base not far ahead with all necessary facilities. If anyone had survived, that's where they'd be.
He forced open several bulkhead doors, each effort weakening him. Already fatigued from cryo-sleep, he soon felt lightheaded with hunger, pausing to rest several times before pushing forward again.
By the time he reached the towering door of the base, he could barely stand.
"Damn it," he muttered. He didn't have the strength to pry open the door, even if he had a mech. Sighing, he turned to the terminal, wiping away the dust. Reluctantly, he activated it, hoping no enemy sensors would pick up his signal.
Clearing the dust from the screen, his hand hovered over the sensor. The screen lit up, casting a ghostly blue light on his face. He navigated through the menu, selecting "Open Door."
"Transferring power, please wait..." the AI's grating female voice announced.
Grinding gears echoed, and Lu Yuan quickly darted behind a storage box as the door cracked open. Squeezing through, he crouched low, scanning the room ahead.
But his vigilance was futile. As overhead lights clicked on, the base illuminated.
Lu Yuan's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding. He pushed himself up, shuffling forward until the scene before him became clear.
A mound of corpses lay beneath the closed door.
He froze, staring at the grim scene: bodies, flung by unbalanced gravity, crushed against the sealed door. Machinery, supplies, vehicles, even mechs were piled up here, with the crew's blood and flesh binding it all together. He dared not imagine the horrors of that final jump. Anyone alive would have been crushed beneath the wave of debris and comrades.
This was a quagmire—a place once entered with no hope of return.
Driven by sheer hunger, Lu Yuan staggered toward the pile, crawling over armor and skeletons, finding a fallen soldier's satchel. Reaching for it, his fingers brushed the buckle before he recoiled, realizing with horror what he was doing.
He was scrounging for food on a hill of his comrades' corpses like some stray dog!
The base filled with his cries, a raw howl of despair, grief, and fury.
When his voice finally gave out, Lu Yuan sat still, holding the ration-filled satchel, staring blankly. After a long pause, he retrieved a can, struggling to insert his opener. Gnashing his teeth, he tore open the can and took a bite, slowly chewing before swallowing. Halfway through, he buried his head in his knees, waiting until his anger was drained before climbing back down.
Not far from the mound, he turned, saluted, and then drew his short sword, aiming the blade toward his chest, ready to end it all.
But with a clang, the blade snapped.
Staring at the broken sword, Lu Yuan smiled bitterly. The rest of the blade had corroded, weakened by years in cryo fluid. He'd forgotten it was little more than a brittle stick now.
He sighed heavily. Maybe his old friend didn't want him to die. After all, an honor sword should lie with its Paratrooper beneath the earth. Its edge should face only the enemy; now he had shamed it.
He tucked the broken blade into his satchel, then returned to the mound of fallen soldiers, saluting.
"Brothers, I swear to avenge you," he said softly.
Turning back, he beat his chest and roared, "I swear, I'll avenge you!"
"Avenge you!!"
His shout echoed throughout the deployment base, reverberating through the Xiyun frigate. That roar cleared away the heavy weight in Lu Yuan's chest, and the indomitable paratrooper captain was back. He had already died many times, but he would not give up his life so easily again. At least a thousand eyes of his 28th Paratrooper Battalion, of the Xiyun's crew, were watching him, urging him to hunt down the one responsible for all of this—no matter how far, no matter how deep in the stars.
Lu Yuan sat at the deployment base's control terminal, quickly calling up the AI. The terminal's holographic projector flickered, casting a faint silhouette.
"To be cautious, let me confirm—is there any hostile presence on the ship?"
"And where exactly has the Xiyun crash-landed? I need essential information on this planet." Just because there was no one left on the Xiyun didn't mean the planet was free from enemy presence. The Empire often left garrisons on temporary bases, and raiding one of them might even yield a usable ship.
The AI's faint hologram flickered, clearly processing information. After a few seconds, it responded, "Based on known space, this planet is located in the western sector of the universe. Milky Way galaxy, Orion Arm, far from the center, closer to the edge, in the general location of the Sun's third galactic ring, at three parts distance from the left boundary, seven from the center."
Lu Yuan's brow furrowed. A barren planet near the edge of the Orion Arm? It seemed the Xiyun had indeed experienced a highly unstable traversal. The Beacon on Eagle Valley should have been locked onto the Eos region; such a deviation was unthinkable.
Suddenly, a lightning bolt of realization struck him. He remembered the name of this planet—a name he'd seen just a handful of times in the basic textbooks for lower-tier Eos citizens, yet the mere thought that it lay beneath his feet now was impossible for him to believe.
"Tell me the formal designation and name of this planet," he demanded.
The AI's voice remained as calm and mechanical as ever.
"Designation: M34-4602151-B."
"Name: Earth."