The crisp crunch of the tracks on snow resounded across the snowfield. The windshield wipers swept back and forth, clearing away the stubborn snowflakes that clung like parasites; sometimes even snow remover and warm water were needed to maintain the driver's view.
Murphy had already uploaded the three planned routes to the space launch site into the Hare vehicle. With Murphy's skills, it could take complete control of the vehicle and switch to optimal auto-cruise.
But Lu Yuan knew that soon Murphy would enter hibernation along with the data chip, and who knew when it would be reactivated again? He had to make the most of it while it was still active, and at the very least, get full control over the Hare!
"Turn the steering wheel left by 32.5 degrees, hold for 0.7 seconds, then straighten. Lightly press the brake, switch to obstacle-breaking mode, gear up to forward 3, and monitor the real-time drone feed."
Murphy, seemingly able to connect with every electronic device around, had turned off the music playing in the Hare without a word and began giving driving instructions in its cold, detached voice. Though Murphy was an intangible virtual entity, Lu Yuan couldn't shake the feeling that a stern-faced woman in a black dress, arms crossed, was standing behind him, only moving her mouth to issue orders.
"Maintain obstacle-breaking mode for 30 seconds, raise the plow, and proceed through the pine forest 50 meters ahead."
Lu Yuan felt Murphy was doing this on purpose. There was a relatively smooth slope on the right, but it insisted he go through the forest on the left. Fine, he thought, it's an AI after all. After a moment of searching, he located the "Obstacle 1" button amidst a mess of switches on the dashboard and pressed it hard.
"Turbine heating, switching to obstacle-breaking acceleration in 3 seconds," Murphy stated over the intercom, with what sounded like a hint of mockery.
Lu Yuan blinked, and suddenly the Hare roared forward, its speed spiking. Even with Lu Yuan jamming the brakes, nothing seemed to slow it down as they barreled toward the forest. In an instant, the 50 meters vanished.
"Sh*t!" Seeing an enormous pine tree coming up fast, Murphy went silent as Lu Yuan shouted, spinning the wheel frantically. He narrowly avoided the tree trunk, but the plow scraped against it with a jarring impact, jolting Lu Yuan to the side.
The turbine was still accelerating, and the Hare plowed deeper into the forest. Lu Yuan could barely avoid each tree, and the sound of snapping branches echoed around them. The plow fiercely tore through every obstacle, even uprooting a boulder.
"Stop! Stop!" he yelled, but the right track rolled onto a rock, tipping the Hare to an angle of nearly 40 degrees. Lu Yuan was jolted against the car door.
"Bang!" The Hare finally landed with a heavy thud, sending another shock through Lu Yuan's body. If not for his seatbelt, he would've been thrown forward.
The Hare finally cleared the forest, and now the brakes took effect, bringing it to a stop.
Lu Yuan exhaled the breath he'd been holding, grabbed his hair, and cursed, "What the hell was that? Why'd you make me go through the forest? Trying to kill me?"
After a few seconds, Murphy's calm voice replied, "Firstly, when you requested Hare driver training, I advised starting at Level 1. You insisted on Level 5. Additionally, obstacle-breaking in taiga conditions is urgently necessary. Furthermore, until you return to Zeus or the fleet, Murphy remains your loyal AI under Fleet Regulation Article—"
"Alright, alright, my fault. Start again from Level 2."
"Request denied. You have yet to reach a safe distance. Training will resume once you exit the destruction range of the Xiyun. Murphy will now take control of the vehicle; I recommend you rest."
"..."
Lu Yuan, resigned, left the driver's seat, unfolded a table, and asked Murphy to bring up a retinal projection of its mapped terrain. Murphy would be inactive after hibernation, so he needed a copy.
With his pencil scratching lightly over the paper, it didn't take long for a rough map outline to emerge. He then used a ruler to mark precise contours, his strokes gentle but exact.
It was a demanding task for the eyes, but the Hare had excellent shock absorption, and the ride was smooth. As an officer, Lu Yuan had trained in military cartography, even if satellites and drones usually supplied images. Paratroopers often had no communication options after landing, so hand-drawn firing maps were common.
After finishing the last line, Lu Yuan set down his pencil and rubbed his eyes. He checked his watch; nearly forty minutes had passed. While it was impossible to make a fully detailed military map, he'd sketched a good overview.
A yawn crept up on him; exhaustion was settling in. Since waking up, he hadn't rested properly, and with the recent physical strain, his heart could probably use a break.
"Wake me when we reach the safe zone," he murmured, rolling up the map and laying his head on the table. The moment he made contact, he fell asleep.
Snow covered the Hare, the plow cutting through drifts, while steam puffed from the exhaust—a rare warmth in the frozen landscape. As the treads rolled forward, who could say if there were any green shoots beneath, or if this land had only eternal winter?
When someone is truly exhausted, even dreams don't come. The occasional bump didn't rouse him, his snores rising and falling in rhythm.
Faithful to its orders, Murphy awoke him a little over three hours later.
"We have reached a safe distance."
Being jolted from deep sleep is a rough experience. Lu Yuan splashed water on his face, rubbed it, and squashed his sleepiness. "So… you're going to hibernate now?"
"Murphy will enter hibernation thirty minutes after confirming the destruction of the Xiyun."
"Right, how long until that happens?"
"37 minutes and 43 seconds remaining."
Lu Yuan pulled up the collar of his cold-weather coat, exhaled into his hands, and grabbed his hat and mask.
"External temperature: minus 39.4 degrees, wind force 7. Exiting the vehicle is not recommended."
Lu Yuan slung his rifle over his shoulder, opened the hatch, and muttered, "You're not my wife. Enough nagging!"
Cold air blasted into the cabin, stinging Lu Yuan as he climbed to the roof. The fierce wind made it hard to stand, so he steadied himself with his now rigid rifle.
Earlier, when Lu Yuan had been driving, the snowfall had been light enough to see a hundred meters ahead. Now, the storm had intensified, reducing visibility so much that the headlights' beams disappeared within meters. Peering through his binoculars, he couldn't make out the Xiyun's crash site.
Reluctantly, he deployed a reconnaissance drone, but it couldn't fly in a straight line and began to lose control as soon as it rose, forcing him to recall it.
But he didn't return to the warmth of the cabin. Standing firm in the snow, he braced against the wind, listening to its howling and the creaking of the forest. His eyes were fixed on the Xiyun's direction, waiting, or perhaps keeping it company until the ship was no more than ashes.
Snowflakes clung to his lashes, blurring his vision. He wiped them away. Slowly, the cold sank in, but he paid it no mind. Murphy had repeatedly warned him of frostbite danger, but he ignored it.
He remembered the first time, as a child on Zeus, he saw a brilliant streak of light in the sky. He thought it was a meteor, but later he learned it was the antimatter plume from a warship passing through low orbit. Whenever a battleship launched, its radiance was so intense that it seemed like there were several suns in the sky.
He had grown accustomed to looking up at those warships, hanging in space, dark and cold. Entering the Coronis always felt like being swallowed by a giant beast from the abyss, where humans and aerospace craft alike were mere grains of sand. Among the 500,000 sailors aboard the Coronis, one was as inconspicuous as a grain of sand on a beach, and some would go their entire lives never crossing paths.
Fifty kilometers away, there lay one such warship, quietly resting among the mountain peaks, enduring the snow and subtle wind. She could have stayed here forever, enjoying the unique scenery of this planet as a final reward, but now, because of Lu Yuan, she would be erased without a trace. Her sailors would meet the same fate. No one in this star system, or even this sector, would know they had ever existed. If Lu Yuan died on Earth, the entire universe would forget them, as if they had never been.
"Countdown: 59 seconds… 58… 57…" The Xiyun counted down to her end, and Lu Yuan tilted his head upward. Suddenly, a shaft of golden light broke through the leaden clouds, illuminating the vast land for a brief, glorious moment.
The wind paused.
Then, it began to blow gently in reverse, the clouds shifting in strange, fleeting patterns. Lu Yuan lifted his shaking hand, raising his binoculars.
There she was—the Xiyun, lying serenely below the mountain's crest, like a strand of black onyx adorning the neck of a goddess. In this vast expanse, she was the sole point of color.
A nameless emotion surged up in his throat. Lu Yuan exhaled white mist and slowly raised his right arm in salute.
The wind stirred.
The gentle breeze roused the goddess from her dream. She stretched gracefully, her snowy form radiating like a rainbow, a sight so breathtaking that all who saw it would be moved.
A glass-like disc gradually rose, expanding to cover a span of twenty kilometers, casting an ethereal glow. From afar, it looked as if the mountains were cloaked in a mirage.
The goddess blinked her jade eyes, seeming to sigh, seeming to sing.
The shimmering disc reached its peak, then in the span of a heartbeat, contracted abruptly. A flash of light streaked across the scene, and a moment later, another snowflake drifted down onto Lu Yuan's shoulder.
The snow had begun to fall.