Chapter 1575: “We”
Gawain could tell at a glance from the words printed on the tape that their distant interstellar friends clearly held some deeply ingrained stereotypes about the peace-loving people of Loren. Otherwise, how could they have read so much into his otherwise plain and unremarkable sentence? He had carefully chosen and double-checked his words to ensure they were perfectly neutral and peaceful, without any misleading implications. If someone could imagine all that from such an ordinary statement, it was definitely their own overactive imagination at work.
He wasn’t the only one thinking this. Amber’s voice drifted through the air beside him: “What exactly do we look like to these aliens?”
Gawain glanced at the figure gradually materializing from the air next to him, a trace of helplessness on his face. “Our path of development has clearly left a very deep impression on them.”
He shook his head, gathered his thoughts, and sent a new message to the Noyans: “We have not taken such radical measures to resolve the divine calamity crisis. The gods still exist in our world. We have only implemented certain methods to address the risk of divine power going out of control. The specific details are not convenient to disclose, but rest assured, Loren has no remaining concerns regarding the construction of the homeworld barrier to resist the Maelstrom.”
Gawain hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided not to reveal the true nature of the Twilight of the Gods plan to their interstellar friends. One reason was that it wasn’t necessary. More importantly, the idea of stuffing bombs beneath the Thrones of the Gods sounded a bit too far-fetched. From the Loren perspective, it was simply the most gentle and peaceful form of salvation—destroying the divine essence while preserving their humanity. But from the Noyan point of view, it would be difficult to explain.
This slightly awkward topic was quickly brushed aside by Gawain, and the Noyans showed no interest in pressing the matter further. Their main concern remained the cooperation on Maelstrom defense, a matter of life and death for both civilizations.
The printer clicked and whirred as a strip of pristine paper slowly emerged. The Noyans inquired, “May we ask about the progress of the Maelstrom observation device? Have there been any issues during construction?”
Gawain read the sharp, clear letters on the tape. Behind those letters seemed to seep the Noyans’ anxious urgency, which didn’t surprise him.
Because the Maelstrom’s spearhead was rapidly approaching the Noyan homeworld. For the Lorens, the countdown to this doomsday judgment still allowed about a year’s breathing room. But for the Noyans, less than half a year remained to prepare.
He glanced at the document Hetty had just handed him, focused for a moment, then replied: “Please rest assured, the construction of the observation device is proceeding very smoothly. We have converted a planetary-scale energy surge source into the excitation focus for the observation array. The construction of the peripheral sensor array ring is already more than halfway complete. We are fully confident that the entire array will be assembled within two Loren months. After that, the Noyan side will have one month for data collation and system calibration.”
This time, the Noyans responded faster than ever before. The clicking printer seemed to overflow with excitement and joy: “This is the best news we have received recently. Noyan society will be greatly encouraged by it—thank you very much for your efforts.”
Gawain smiled faintly, carefully choosing his words as he prepared to send a new message. But the printer clicked again, and the Noyans immediately sent another message: “Friends from afar, the date that will decide the fate of our two civilizations is drawing near. By your reckoning, we may have only three months left to communicate. After that, Noyan will be the first to face the Maelstrom’s impact. We will devote most of our global energy to maintaining the Mind Unity Field. Coupled with the Maelstrom’s disturbance of the magical environment around celestial bodies, faster-than-light communication between our two planets may be temporarily interrupted.
“Afterward, Loren will be next to face the Maelstrom.
“During this ‘interstellar storm,’ which may last from six months to a year, we will once again sink into a dark state where communication and verification between us will be impossible. We may not even be able to confirm the other’s survival until the storm ends.
“Friends from afar, if Noyan fails this trial, then these last three months may be the final time our two civilizations can watch over each other across the vast sea of stars. We have no means to leave longer-lasting traces in the cosmos. Therefore, our sages and elders have made a decision—
“Noyan will follow the example of the great pioneer peoples and leave a special legacy on the land. We have built a massive archive and sealed within it adjusted primordial embryos and educational machines. Next, we will construct a great ‘lighthouse’ above the archive. This lighthouse will emit magical ‘flashes’ dominated by arcane oscillations, shining continuously until destroyed by time. Inside, it will record the history of Noyan’s communication with Loren, for successors to study.
“Even from four light-years away, the magical flashes from the lighthouse will be clearly visible.
“If Noyan ultimately fails, our successors will soon be nurtured from the ruins and rise swiftly, just as we once inherited the legacy from the pioneer peoples, gaining early knowledge of our two civilizations’ history. If we succeed… the lighthouse will remain, shining as a beacon in the starry sea. When Loren civilization eventually launches its own deep-space voyages, we will welcome you among Noyan’s beautiful mountains and rivers.”
Gawain quietly watched the lines of text print out one after another. Even Amber, who had only been watching for amusement, fell silent. She stared at the tape for a long moment, then sighed thoughtfully when the printer paused: “That sounds almost like a farewell testament.”
“The Maelstrom will reach Noyan first,” Gawain said without looking up. “For them, judgment day is only three months away.”
“They assume Noyan might fail, but not Loren,” Amber added. “They seem pretty confident in us.”
“Maybe they just don’t want to offend,” Gawain shook his head, then took a slow breath. Placing his hand on the terminal’s ‘send’ button, he spoke carefully: “Lorens believe in facing an uncertain future with optimism, but we also prepare for the worst before it happens. We have similar archives and legacy plans, and have been preparing them for a long time.
“As one of the main leaders of the Loren Alliance, I can promise you that the history of communication between Noyan and Loren will be stored in every archive. If both civilizations fall, our successors will rise quickly and learn of the other’s existence, perhaps saving time and avoiding the mistakes of their predecessors.
“If both civilizations survive, these archives and lighthouses will symbolize our friendship and cooperation. We will remember this history of mutual watchfulness and look forward to the day when deep-space vessels cross the starry sea and our peoples meet face to face.
“If only one civilization survives… we hope the survivor will do everything possible to care for the descendants across the cosmic divide.”
After a moment, the Noyans’ reply appeared in sharp, clear letters on the paper tape: “We agree.”
Night deepened over the distant Eastern Holy Spirit Plains. The towering Sorin trees stood like mountains between earth and sky, bathed in cold starlight. Atop the massive tree canopies, a vast antenna array slowly rotated. The night wind whispered through the steel and crystal framework, carrying a mournful sound far into the darkness.
Communication between Loren and Noyan relied on faster-than-light antenna arrays. The only such array on this planet was aboard the Antavian, a sea monster colonization ship deep beneath the ocean. Yet the Sorin Command Center remained an indispensable link in interplanetary communication—home to the Decoders and Listeners. The powerful computing center and synthetic brain arrays in Sorin worked alongside them to translate and encode messages. Meanwhile, the antenna array atop the Sorin trees, though incapable of faster-than-light transmission, had exceptional reception within the atmosphere, greatly easing the load on the Antavian’s array.
Deep within the giant trees, in a large chamber supported by flowering vines and wooden walls, Beltira sat quietly in a chair woven from blossoms and tendrils, eyes closed in apparent rest. But this was only a facade; her mind surged endlessly through the unprecedentedly vast plant network. Every nerve ending’s information converged into a tributary of her immense consciousness, no longer merely human.
At that moment, she clearly saw the northern Tarash Plains engineering base bustling under the night sky. The nearby “worker town” glowed with lights, festooned with banners and sheaves of wheat celebrating the Revival Festival. The mess hall was stocked with hot meals, ready for the night-shift artisans returning from work—even in such a remote, desolate place, the taste of home and the spirit of cultural tradition endured.
She sensed the Sorin tree’s roots slowly writhing and growing deep underground. Shelters and caves had formed within the root network, supported by wooden structures. Underground passageways bustled with carts and troops transporting immersion pods, supplies, and building materials to these “disaster backup zones.” Countless nerve bundles extended from these caves and the Sorin tree itself, reaching the homeworld barrier command center on the Tarash Plains and antenna arrays scattered across the empire. One day, these arrays would transmit data to the Voyager Tower in the southwestern sea, sustaining the homeworld barrier’s operation.
Beneath the vast, decorated canopy of the Sorin trees, the once-temporary construction corps’ camp had grown into a thriving city. Residents celebrated the day symbolizing spring’s arrival. A troupe from Rockhold had arrived tonight—despite the popularity of magical shadow plays, traditional theater companies still survived stubbornly. Their stage was the brightest patch of light beneath Beltira’s feet.
Yet above this lively earthly scene, atop the Sorin canopy, only the cold night wind stirred the steel and crystal arrays. Beltira shifted her attention to the antenna group, feeling the world’s bustle slip away. She listened to the voices from distant stars, the conversation between another civilization and the Loren Alliance. The “sound” crossing the starry sea carried a warmth utterly unlike the festive night below, leaving her momentarily dazed.
After the spokespeople of the two civilizations exchanged farewells, the formal communication between Loren and Noyan came to an end.
“Confirmation received: End-of-message signal from Noye acknowledged. Corresponding response has been sent.”
“All teams, proceed with work handover. Neural interface arrays entering standby mode.”
“Data compilation and archiving in progress…”
Beltera ‘heard’ the voice from the command hall echoing through her neural system. The dispatchers were wrapping up post-communication tasks. Her consciousness then ‘sank’ deep into the canopy layer. The next moment, another of her avatars activated in the command hall. Upon opening her eyes, this avatar saw the brightly lit hall where orderly handover procedures and staff sign-offs were underway.
In this era of routine communication between Loren and Noye, the entire “interstellar communication” system never fully shuts down. Even after transmissions end, every link maintains a 24-hour standby crew to handle occasional small-scale exchanges between the two civilizations. This place was no exception.
Staff members kept greeting Beltera’s avatar as they left the hall. Gradually, the vast chamber quieted until only a few night-shift personnel remained at their posts. Beltera strolled between the workstations but suddenly stopped.
She looked down at a middle-aged man still seated and asked with mild curiosity, “Mr. Bard, you’re on the night shift again tonight?”
“I swapped shifts with Sean,” Bard replied, pausing his paperwork and smiling. “His daughter’s birthday is today, plus it’s the Revival Festival, so I let him go home early. That way, I get a day off tomorrow.”
“…We don’t exactly lack people on duty tonight,” Beltera said quietly, watching Bard. “Aren’t you going to the town’s late-night celebration?”
Bard thought for a moment, then shook his head with a smile. “Nah, going alone isn’t much fun. Besides, I’m not really the type to enjoy noisy crowds. I’d rather just hang out here in peace.”
Beltera gave a noncommittal hum. Then, as if sensing something, her tone turned curious. “Hmm?”
Bard blinked, puzzled. “What’s up? Is something wrong here?”
“No… not you,” Beltera shook her head, glancing toward a nearby arcane network terminal displaying system status. “The communication signal from Noye doesn’t seem to have cut off. It’s still in standby silence.”
“Did they forget to power down?” Bard raised an eyebrow. “They’re human too, so slip-ups happen. Want me to remind them?”
Beltera stared thoughtfully at the terminal. After a long moment, she reached out and activated Bard’s workstation, sending an inquiry to the Noye system still in silent standby: “Is there anything else?”
Only moments later, the antenna array received a reply. Letters appeared in the terminal’s holographic display: “Ah, sorry, I… got a bit distracted.”
Rarely did Beltera’s usually expressionless, wooden face betray any reaction—but this time, she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
(Time for a book recommendation! It’s been a while, so here’s a fanfic I’ve been enjoying: Arknights—Terra Revolution. The title pretty much says it all. The author is Ye Mo Ya, also known as DawnBookFriend. Hope everyone will check it out!)
(End of chapter)