Chapter 1576: “They”
Compared to the always formal, formulaic official statements from the Loren Continent, the interstellar communications from the Noyen people always carried a distinctly human touch. As exchanges between the two civilizations grew more frequent and translations smoother, this sense of warmth became increasingly apparent. Often, Beltila found herself wondering if the Noyen simply lacked the ability to conceal their emotions—that they might be a people who spoke their thoughts aloud without filter.
But to be honest, even by Noyen standards, what happened today was unprecedented.
She stared at the words appearing on the communication device, a bit taken aback, imagining the flustered alien on the other end. It was hard to believe such a mistake could come from an “interstellar spokesperson.” Surprised and unsure how to respond, she hesitated. Then, just as she was pondering a reply, the magic network terminal buzzed again. Another message arrived from light-years away—
The duty officers, aided by their neural servos, quickly completed the translation. On the terminal’s holographic display, a simple line appeared: “Can you chat with me?”
Beltila and Bard froze simultaneously. This was a scenario no negotiation expert or xenobiologist had ever anticipated. Then, the magic network terminal beside Bard’s station suddenly connected on its own, and the figure of Gawain appeared before them.
“Respond to this request,” he said. “This is the first time a Noyen has contacted us as an individual. It might help us better understand this distant people. Beltila, you’ll lead this conversation.”
“Understood,” Beltila nodded immediately. She sat down at the station next to Bard, pretending to operate the terminal, but in truth, she linked several neural fiber bundles from the towering Solin tree directly to the command hall’s equipment. Her thoughts transformed into words, swiftly encoded and sent across the starry void: “Of course. I’d be happy to.”
Moments later, the antenna array received a reply from afar: “Thank you—please don’t mind the trouble I cause. I’m just… a little uneasy. By the way, are you the one who’s been talking to us all this time?”
Beltila glanced at Gawain’s image on the communication screen, then looked away and typed her response: “No, the leader has gone to rest. I’m the technical officer in charge of managing the communication array. You can call me ‘Ms. Beltila,’ or simply ‘Beltila.’ Would you like to speak with our leader?”
“No, no, don’t disturb him,” came the quick reply from across the starry sea. “I just wanted someone to talk to. You responding is already more than enough. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself—you can call me ‘Nova.’ That was my name before I became a ‘Witch.’”
“A Witch?” Beltila’s curiosity was piqued. “Is that your profession? Or a title? On Loren, the word refers to women who wield magic…”
“A Witch is my position,” Nova explained, sounding somewhat proud. “I’m responsible for controlling this ancient Pioneer communication satellite. In our society, there is only one Witch at a time. It’s a highly honorable role.”
Beltila checked the nearby machine that automatically recorded their exchange, then glanced around the command hall. The duty staff were all intently focused on their consoles, while Gawain appeared deep in thought. She withdrew her gaze and continued the conversation: “Sounds similar to my job—I also manage communication equipment. But our devices aren’t Pioneer relics, and there’s more than one technical officer handling different parts. You say only one Witch controls your communication device? Yet you maintain a 24/7 signal between two planets… don’t you need rest?”
“The Witch does not rest,” Nova replied quickly. “The machines that came with me take care of me. Until my service term ends, I do not tire.”
Beltila instinctively frowned at those words. Gawain’s voice came from beside her: “Machines take care of her? What exactly is her condition now?”
Beltila composed herself and carefully chose her words: “You say you can work continuously, cared for by machines? Forgive my curiosity, but I’m intrigued by your… ‘condition.’ There’s no one like you on Loren. Do you live in some highly automated control facility? Have you undergone some kind of adaptive modification?”
“I live on the satellite itself,” the voice from across the stars entered Loren’s atmosphere, appearing as clear text before Beltila. “It’s been twenty-one years—ah, that’s according to our calendar.”
“She lives on the Pioneer satellite?!” Even Gawain, who was supervising nearby, was stunned and blurted out, “And for so many years? How exactly do the Noyen control that Pioneer satellite?”
Beltila quickly sent a message: “I’m surprised—a Witch actually lives on the satellite? So you’re literally in space right now? And from what you say… you’ll live there forever? Why? Is this the only way you can control the Pioneer satellite?”
“Yes, it’s the necessary method to control this ancient satellite,” Nova responded swiftly. “We… do not fully master the Pioneer legacy. To operate this old communication satellite, we must use some clever means. The ancient Forerunner race laid the foundation for us—they obtained certain permissions from the Pioneer database. As a species created by the Forerunners, some Noyen individuals inherit this legacy genetically. These special individuals… are the Witches.
“We have hundreds of Witch candidates. Selecting qualified Witches from the populace is a crucial part of Noyen society. Those chosen undergo ten years of training and testing. After nearly a hundred trials, only the candidate with the highest adaptation index can advance from ‘candidate’ to official Witch. When the previous Witch’s service ends, the new Witch is sent into space—along with life-support systems to sustain her…”
The words from across the starry gulf appeared line by line on the holographic display. Beltila found herself leaning forward, fully absorbed. Her neural array strained to imagine the scene—how a civilization four light-years away viewed and carried out such a duty within their own cultural framework. Nearby, Bard muttered softly, “I don’t understand why the Witch has to stay on the satellite for her entire service. Aren’t there many candidates? Why not rotate several people up there? With your technology, that shouldn’t be too hard…”
Beltila hesitated, then sent Bard’s question. Moments later, Nova’s reply came:
“Once the brain is removed, it must remain permanently linked to the Forerunner servo system. The Noyen nervous system is fragile and cannot withstand damage from a second reconnection.”
The letters on the holographic display were sharp and clear. The technicians on duty in the command hall fell silent. Even Beltila—once a high priestess of the End of All Things, who had witnessed countless dark and twisted horrors—was momentarily stunned. She remained silent for a long time. Minutes later, she finally gathered her thoughts and sent a message:
“This is shocking. I don’t know how to respond. In Loren’s cultural understanding, this is an enormous price. You and your predecessors have made a great and noble sacrifice.”
“It is a great honor,” Nova replied. “For the Noyen, it is one of the highest values an individual can achieve within their limited lifespan.” The distance and limited communication stripped the words of emotion, and no one could see the Witch’s expression, but Beltila felt a genuine pride shining through the text. “I am glad to be a Witch, and even more glad to have heard your voices during my service. In this, I am luckier than my predecessors.
“For many years, generation after generation of Witches have been sent to this satellite, then returned to the surface as ‘holy relics.’ The starry sky they faced was mostly empty and silent. Even when they caught ‘noise’ from alien civilizations, those civilizations rarely developed faster-than-light communication for direct dialogue. For those predecessors, the stars were cold and lonely. But I… I am fortunate.
“Ms. Beltila, I am the first Witch in history to receive a response in space. I don’t know if you understand what this means to me, but you should congratulate me. On the day our communication first connected, my family congratulated me as well.”
“Your family?” Beltila hesitated, then sent the question. “Are they still on the surface? What do they do?”
“Most live on the surface. My grandfather is the chief industrial governor. My parents work in hydroponic farms. I have two older brothers who work at a near-Earth orbital station. For the Noyen, these are honorable positions.”
Beltila quietly stared at the words on the screen, speechless for a long time. In that moment of reflection, she suddenly recalled something Gawain had once told her—
Two civilizations raised on utterly different homeworlds differ even more than gods and ants.
Communications between Loren and the Noyen had been ongoing for some time. The two civilizations exchanged countless texts and images, trying to help their distant allies understand who they were. In Cecil, thousands of scholars and wise men worked day and night studying the alien information, exhausting their imaginations to sketch the Noyen’s history and culture. Yet even so, the two civilizations seemed separated by a thick fog. The rare glimpses through that mist astonished the sages on both sides.
Just as the Noyen saw Loren as a cold, orderly, efficient warrior civilization, unable to fathom Loren’s talk of “gentle solutions,” “peace and love,” Beltila found it hard to grasp what kind of feelings the Witch named Nova harbored living alone in her cold space palace. She could hardly imagine the extreme sense of honor and responsibility that sustained Noyen society.
All she could do was offer respect—to the Witch, and to that distant alien people.
“According to your calculations, we only have three months left to communicate,” the system caught another signal from space. Nova sent a new message: “I can contact people on the surface here, but for some reason… I prefer hearing your ‘voice.’ The sages say it might be the Pioneer legacy affecting my emotions, but I think… it’s simply because your voice makes me feel a kind of ‘warmth.’”
“Lady Beltira, did you know? I can actually ‘feel’ temperature. Though I’m connected to a cold, unfeeling machine, this machine has its own way of perceiving things. It transmits so much to me—most of it hard to make sense of—but on the day our two worlds first established communication, I distinctly felt… warmth and kindness. That kindness was woven into every unit of data you sent, as real and clear to me as if I were touching it with my own fingers.
“The wise ones can’t explain this feeling—it has no theoretical basis. After all, no witch in history has ever successfully made contact with an alien civilization. But I trust my instincts. I truly believe I can sense your reliability and sincerity. So even though you’ve shown some… ‘frightening’ combat tendencies that have unsettled some of the elders and sages, I’m willing to advise them to trust you.”
As the communication data flickered before him, Gawain, who had been quietly observing without speaking, suddenly broke the silence: “Thank you for all your efforts, Miss Nova. We understand how difficult it is to build genuine trust and understanding between two civilizations, especially with such an immense barrier between us. But please believe that Loren has always approached friendship with the utmost sincerity and goodwill. We… are truly glad to hear your voice across the stars.”
Gawain’s words were swiftly translated into the alien language and sent out into the cosmos. After confirming with Gawain, Beltira added, “That was our leader speaking to you just now. He’s been paying close attention to our communications.”
Nova’s reply came quickly: “Ah, the leader—pleased to speak with you. I hope you don’t mind my boldness.”
In the blue velvet study of Cecil Palace, Gawain couldn’t help but smile. “No need to be so nervous, Miss Nova. We talk often, don’t we?”
A moment later, Nova’s response appeared before Gawain: “Yes, we do talk often. But back then, I spoke for Noy, and you spoke for Loren. Now… I am Nova.”
“My name is Gawain,” he said solemnly. “Then let us greet each other properly once more—It’s a pleasure to hear your voice, Nova.”
After a brief pause, a greeting crossed the vast starry sea and appeared before Gawain’s eyes:
“It’s a pleasure to hear your voice, Gawain… Leader.”
(Time for another book recommendation! This time it’s Above the High Sky by Yintian Shenyin—a fantasy novel by a veteran author. Though it’s still short, it shows great promise. Everyone, please give it some support!
P.S. Have I been recommending books a bit too often lately…?)
(The End)