Earth.
Lu Yuan stared at the Earth on the screen, orbiting a yellow dwarf star, without blinking. It was as if even the AI could sense the storm of emotions in his heart, causing the terminal screen to flicker with rows of white noise, distorting the star map into chaos before returning to normal.
Lu Yuan inspected the star map and planetary data displayed on the terminal screen closely. He rubbed his eyes and murmured bitterly, "Earth, designation: M34-4602151-B."
After speaking, Lu Yuan tilted his head back and stared at the shattered ceiling light, imagining it as the sun, humanity's old sun. For the fleet, this one astronomical unit was just a matter of time, like the length of a cigarette. But for Lu Yuan now, perhaps tomorrow a rescue ship would come, or perhaps he would live out his days here.
A faint recollection surfaced, a broken memory of Zhang Yueyang pounding on the cryo-pod cover, shouting. Resentment bubbled up inside him; this damned old friend, why did he have to drag Lu Yuan—a man who should have died countless times already—out of one hellhole only to throw him into another? Why couldn't he have simply perished in the explosion of that warship? Such an end, turning into dust, would have been so fitting for a soldier, a paratrooper.
Lu Yuan was silent for a while, gripping the railing, head slightly lowered, gazing at the small mound of sailors' bodies next to the sealed door of the Xiyun. Those eyes, some open and some closed, seemed to stare back at him, making him shiver and come to a stark realization.
He pounded his fist on the console. If he had fallen to such depths, what did it matter if he ended up on Earth? Compared to his fallen comrades aboard the Solar Corona, Lady Luck had favored him more times than he could count. What right did he have to complain?
If for no other reason, he had to find his three fellow survivors who had crashed on Earth, no matter where.
To let them know that on this land, once soaked with their ancestors' blood, they still had compatriots.
"Brothers." Lu Yuan placed his right hand on his chest, addressing the bodies of the sailors.
"I, Lu Yuan, Captain of the 28th Paratrooper Battalion of the First Mobile Division, hereby swear."
The insignia on his Honorary Short Sword glinted faintly, as if the spirits of the soldiers who had fallen on those thirteen conquered worlds gathered there. Lu Yuan unsheathed his half-broken sword; as fractured as it was, the only way to mend it was through glory and victory.
"I will find the three survivors scattered out there and bring them home."
Lu Yuan raised his right arm, standing straight, saluting the fallen, saluting those who had fought for their country till the last moment.
After dropping his arm, he gathered his composure, allowing calmness to return to his mind so that he could operate as a paratrooper captain should.
"Report the status of the Xiyun, usable cabins, remaining fuel, and military supplies. Priority on flight and ground combat equipment," Lu Yuan commanded the AI as he began to inspect the ship's map.
The AI immediately responded: "Current status assessment: 'Severely Damaged.' Rear half of the ship is detached and lost. Fuel reserves at 3%. Main forward guns 1 to 4 are inactive due to fuel shortage. Secondary turrets are all damaged from the shock. All aircraft circuits have burned out due to extreme overload. With the rear detached, all heavy ground combat vehicles and surface reformation equipment are lost. Detailed list follows…"
A dull pain throbbed in Lu Yuan's head, whether from cryosleep aftereffects or from the grim state of the Xiyun.
Given the Xiyun's current condition, unless a repair dock was nearby, the only viable option was to abandon the ship. Any remaining fuel, resources, and usable cabins were pitifully low; no wonder the AI had to "redirect power" even to open a door.
Lu Yuan pondered briefly, knowing he would have to leave the remains of the Xiyun eventually. Instead of waiting for the fuel to evaporate, he decided to put it to immediate use. "Activate external scans. Scan the surrounding environment, prioritize for life signs."
"Request denied. According to Emergency Military Protocol Section 3, any operation exceeding 1% of auxiliary power must be manually authorized. Please proceed to the bridge for confirmation. As the sole survivor, you are required to log an entry."
The door leading to the bridge cracked open. Efficient as ever, Lu Yuan thought, stepping forward without hesitation.
A frigate was barely a kilometer long, and Lu Yuan was near the center, so it wouldn't take him long to reach the bridge. The Xiyun's standard frigate design emphasized assault speed and hull resilience, so despite the "severely damaged" status, its interior structure was not entirely compromised. The passageways above the keel remained largely intact.
Leaving the deployment base, Lu Yuan traversed a maze of corridors. The air was thick, freezing, and filled with dust. He took an oxygen mask from the skull of a long-deceased sailor and located emergency breathing ports as he went, sometimes holding his breath until he found the next working port.
Passing several cryo chambers, he released dozens of fully armed but lifeless sailors. Lu Yuan sighed. He could hardly imagine the intensity of fire they must have faced at the stelae to have left so few survivors.
After crossing a shaky walkway, blinding white light flooded in through breaches, and a slight breeze whistled through cracks in the armor. Ignoring the AI's radiation warnings, Lu Yuan removed his mask and took a deep breath of Earth's air.
Cold, indifferent, and not a bit sweet.
The bridge, compact but functional, lay around the corner. This circular gravity chamber had long lost power, and it lay slumped in its socket. Inside, the 360-degree real-time holographic screens flapped like scraps of paper, while the captain's designated floating seat sat anchored in place. All bridge personnel remained strapped in, still in their positions, preferring suffocation over abandoning their posts.
Lu Yuan carefully avoided disturbing the skeletons, but the captain's remains collapsed into dust as soon as he touched him, with only the helmet spinning away.
With a heavy heart, Lu Yuan brushed the dust off the command panel and pressed the button to activate external sensors. Weak electric signals sparked to life, slowly reviving the Xiyun. The bridge lit up like the dawn, dust dancing in the beam of light as if breathing life into the soldiers who had turned to statues.
Taking a small log device—the captain's navigation journal—from the console, Lu Yuan inserted it into a working computer and skipped through the log, bypassing the password with his high clearance. He scrolled to the date of the Battle of Eagle Valley, skipping over the routine data on heading, speed, and turbulence until he reached the captain's significant entries.
"Shenzhou Calendar Year 228, Frost Month, 7th... Xiyun provided ground support on Eagle Valley Star. Ammunition depleted. Must return to base for quarterly repairs."
"Frost Month, 9th... The flagship has begun setting up stelae. The fleet's return seems imminent. The young sailors miss home, as do I—it's been five years. My son should be starting primary school by now. Perhaps he'll say more than just 'Papa' when I return."
"Frost Month, 14th... Stela setup complete. Xiyun on patrol. Return to base for repairs."
The captain's personal logs abruptly ended on the 15th, the day the fleet was attacked. Lu Yuan opened the battle log backup.
"Shenzhou Calendar, Frost Month 15th... Detected unknown spatial disturbance near flagship stelae... Battle alert! Enemy is reverse-jumping through our stelae! Confirmed enemy ship: Kyushu-class heavy cruiser, hull number 49, identified as the Lanjin."
Lu Yuan slammed the log shut. What did that mean? The first ship to cross the stelae and attack was the Lanjin? That cruiser, the decoy fleet's flagship from the Battle of the Sentinel Stars, now turned against them?
Betrayal?
Impossible! She was on that cruiser!
Emotions surged, gripping his heart in a turmoil. He thought he was numb after all that had happened, but learning that her cruiser had led the assault—how could he accept that?
Desperately, he clutched his hair. He didn't want to consider her fate. If she was alive, she could be suffering on a captured Lanjin, or even... No, impossible!
But what was the alternative—to hope she had died like the loyal soldiers beside her, bodies floating forever in space?