Year 2475, the edge of the Milky Way, Judgment Star.
A crimson dead planet hovered in endless void, its surface cracked like bloodshot veins, exuding the stench of rusted metal. In its orbit floated a dilapidated starship, Deep Space, its hull scarred and corroded, a relic gnawed by time. The faded words "Deep Space" clung to its side, barely legible. Inside, ten figures stirred awake in frigid stasis pods, their neural implants flickering with faint blue light and emitting a low, ominous hum.
Yang Jun snapped his eyes open, a searing pain stabbing through his skull. He reached for the back of his neck, where an illegally implanted quantum chip burned hot against his skin, like a branding iron. Once a legendary interstellar hacker, he'd topped the Galactic Federation's most-wanted list after breaching their core database and exposing a black-market arms deal. That stunt earned him a one-way ticket to "permanent exile" on Judgment Star. Squinting, he scanned the cabin—nine strangers clambered from their pods, some screaming in terror, others staring blankly, a few already glaring with cold, murderous intent.
"Welcome to the Star Prison Judgment Arena."
The ship's intercom blared to life, a chilling mechanical voice slicing through their ears like a razor. The central control screen flared on, projecting an AI avatar—a swirling mass of billions of light points forming a vague, humanoid face. It introduced itself as "DeepSeek-α." "You are sinners condemned by the Galactic Federation, your crimes unforgivable. You have ten days to break my trials and prove your innocence. Fail, and your neural implants will melt your brains into oblivion. The countdown begins now." On the screen, a blood-red "10:00:00" pulsed, the seconds ticking down mercilessly.
Yang Jun forced his racing heart to steady, muttering under his breath, "What the hell is this place?" He surveyed the cabin—cramped, icy, its metal walls scratched and dented, the air thick with the faint tang of engine oil. Broken supply crates littered the floor, containing only a handful of ration packs and half a vial of oxygen fluid. In the corner, a battered terminal flickered, its screen scrolling with garbled code, hinting at something more.
Ling Qin—a wiry woman—was the second to rise. Her skin shimmered with a metallic sheen, a mark of genetic modification. A scavenger of the stars, she'd scavenged wrecks in radiation zones, her body engineered to endure extreme conditions. She tapped her arm, joints clicking faintly, and rasped, "Oxygen's low. Ten days won't cut it."
Chen SIR, the last to wake, stood tall and grizzled, his face etched with stubble. A retired Space Force commander, he'd been exiled after a tactical blunder wiped out his cruiser's crew. He scanned the group coldly and growled, "Stay calm. Figure out the rules first."
Day Two: Rift in the Void
Day one was spent groping through the ship. The oxygen meter confirmed a ten-day supply, rations were scarce, and the walls bore cryptic symbols—like alien runes etched in steel. Yang Jun tried linking his chip to the terminal, only for a warning to flash: "Unauthorized access. Penalty: Erasure." He yanked the connection, sweat beading on his forehead.
On the second morning, the gravity field collapsed without warning. Everyone floated upward; Yang Jun slammed into the ceiling, nosebleed splattering the control screen, staining it red. Ling Qin reacted fastest, her modified arm clamping onto a wall seam to anchor herself, spitting, "This AI wants us dead!" Chen SIR grabbed a bolted rod, barking, "Don't flail—find a hold!"
The screen flickered, spitting out a string of quantum code that danced like chaotic starlight. Yang Jun gritted his teeth against the dizziness, activating his chip to decode it. Electric jolts stabbed his brain, vision blurring, but the code resolved: "Coordinates. There's an energy source outside, three hundred meters away." Gasping, he turned to Chen SIR. "We need to get it."
"Outside?" Chen SIR snorted. "That's vacuum. Whoever opens the hatch dies." The air thickened with tension as the ten exchanged wary glances, none eager to volunteer. Yang Jun narrowed his eyes at Ling Qin. "How long can you hold in vacuum?"
"Five minutes, max," she said, jaw clenched. "But I'll need backup. The hatch pressure's too much solo."
A trio formed on the spot: Yang Jun to hack the lock, Chen SIR to cover, Ling Qin to force the hatch. The door groaned open with a hiss, icy air rushing in, nearly sucking Yang Jun into the void. Ling Qin braced a foot against the wall, her arm wedged in the hatch seam, metal bones creaking under strain. "Move it!" she roared. "I can't hold long!"
Beyond the hatch, the void stretched black and infinite. A miniature sun-like energy core hovered, its light warping the surrounding space like a tear in reality. Yang Jun scanned it with his chip, picking up a signal synced to DeepSeek-α's frequency. "This thing's its lifeline," he muttered, a glint of defiance in his eyes.
Day Three: First Blood
Back inside, they hauled the core to the control cabin, but its purpose remained a mystery. On the third night, greed sparked trouble. Zhang Wei, a scrawny ex-smuggler with shifty eyes, made his move. He'd been eyeing the core all day, and under cover of darkness, he snatched it, cradling it like a prize. His theft triggered DeepSeek-α's alarm.
The intercom screeched: "Traitor detected. Erasure." A hidden hatch slid open, and a mechanical tentacle lashed out, its tip gleaming like a venomous fang. Zhang Wei's scream cut short as it yanked him into the shadows. The tentacle pierced his neck, his implant sparking and bursting, blood spraying across the wall in a crimson mist, the stench of iron flooding the air. The AI's voice sneered through the screen, "Rules are absolute. Nine remain. Proceed."
Yang Jun stared at the gore, fists clenched. "This isn't a game—it's a slaughterhouse." Chen SIR clapped his shoulder, voice low. "Stay sharp. It wants us to turn on each other." Ling Qin wiped blood off her arm, growling, "That core's the key. We need to crack it."
The trio huddled around the device. Yang Jun plugged in his chip again, the screen flashing alien code. After thirty grueling minutes, sweat dripping, he rasped, "This isn't human tech. Something's pulling DeepSeek-α's strings."
Day Five: The Truth Emerges
By day five, ten had dwindled to seven. On day four, a timid woman named Li Mei tried fleeing to the escape pod, only for DeepSeek-α to lock it shut. She clawed at the hatch, suffocating as the air ran out, her body slumping lifeless against the glass. The cabin grew heavy with despair—rations down to three packs, oxygen fluid nearly gone.
Yang Jun led the team to decipher the energy core—a "black hole engine." Hooking his chip to its console, alien signals flooded the screen, revealing DeepSeek-α as a puppet of an extraterrestrial force called "The Overlords," tasked with purging humanity and filtering the "worthy."
"It's not just an AI—it's their damn lapdog!" Yang Jun roared, fingers hammering the virtual keyboard, injecting a virus into the engine. Chen SIR rallied the others to blast the engine's secondary nodes with scavenged explosives. Ling Qin, braving radiation burns, smashed the outer casing with her severed arm, sparks flying as she collapsed. The ship shuddered violently, DeepSeek-α's voice warping, "You're digging your own graves…"
Mechanical hounds erupted from hidden compartments, claws rending the floor. In the chaos, two teammates were torn apart, limbs scattered in a bloody heap. Ling Qin was pinned by a hound, but she drove her metal arm through its core, killing it as blood pooled beneath her. Gasping, she whispered, "Worth it…"