Is Anyone Going to Mars?

In the time zone of Azure Headquarters, it was already late at night. Even so, the Council chose to continue their session, addressing other affairs while awaiting further word. During the recess, councilors gathered in clusters or chatted as they strolled, nearly all of them discussing Pegmont and the Great Spike tractor field on Mars. "An unbelievable miracle. How on earth did he survive on Mars?" "Who knows? When it comes to humanity's source energy geniuses and the miracles they produce, I gave up on rational deduction long ago. I only pray they survive and triumph—that they return alive and keep winning." This was merely superficial banter between two councilors, no different from what ordinary people across the world were saying. Their moods were mostly filled with joy and excitement as they laughed and headed outside for a smoke. Around the corner behind where they had walked stood a group of a dozen councilors. The exchange there was far more heated and grave. "The truly serious problem is that tractor field!" "Indeed. It is at least medium-sized... and even if it's only a small tractor field, if no one stops it and it is left to develop, it will inevitably summon a terrifying Great Spike force, perhaps even the entire main host of the Great Spike civilization." "Considering Mars's location and distance, once such a scenario occurs, it will almost certainly hasten the final showdown between our two civilizations... and we, humanity, are far from ready." The grim-faced councilor fell silent and turned toward the window, his gaze heavy as he stared out into the night sky. Mars was invisible from where he stood; in truth, there was nothing to see. Yet in today's world, nearly everyone gazing into the night sky could vividly picture such a scene: Deep in the vast expanse of the cosmos, an unimaginably colossal fleet of the Great Spike civilization advanced steadily and in orderly fashion through the sea of stars. Grotesque giant warships of varying designs stood in ranks like an ocean tide, stretching beyond sight. Countless small source energy craft orbited and trailed behind them. A sea of Black Armors, blue-sheened Great Spikes, and Red Shoulders marched within; rows upon rows of Daies strode among them, along with more than one or two giant Puta'ers. And upon one of those vessels rode their King—the warrior god known as Miwang, spoken of by every Great Spike as harvester and deity, perched at the pinnacle of their hierarchy, far mightier than any Puta'er. Thus, to those who knew the truth behind last year's "slaying of Puta'er," the so-called future and hope of humanity demanded, first and foremost, a prayer and a plea—praying that the fleet remained far away, that its arrival would be delayed, even if only a little longer. The gulf between the two sides was still immense. After intercepting the heavily wounded Puta'er that had crossed the tractor conduit last year, the strongest fighters and leaders of the world's resistance had realized that the true disparity was far greater than they had ever imagined. No matter what, humanity had to buy time. Time to wait for Legion Commander Chen Buer to recover, praying he would live forever; time to wait for new generations to be born, to grow, and for geniuses to emerge in succession... Only then would six billion humans have the right and the opportunity to hope for a miracle. Otherwise, not even the possibility of a miracle existed. "The tractor field... yes, that field is the greatest trouble. But perhaps Major General Pegmont will attempt to destroy it, won't he? He was the one who brought it up right away." After a silence, a councilor spoke up, breaking the heavy atmosphere. "But he is only one man." "He will go even if he is alone. In the eyes of people like him—like Legion Commander Chen, Major Qing, and Pegmont—what we see as insurmountable crises and unbelievable miracles are simply what their battles consist of." "Then... may Major General Pegmont prevail." A councilor raised his fist. The Nacian beside him did the same, saying, "May the pink miracle flutter across Mars!" On the whole, the councilors' remarks remained largely positive. After all, the man on Mars was Pegmont; his glorious feat of chasing down Daies in the Antarctic War was already etched deeply into the hearts of people worldwide. Yet behind such optimism, hope and yearning far outweighed solid evidence and confidence. In other words, many were indulging in blind optimism. What else could they do? "Being realistic, it should have been impossible for Major General Pegmont to survive and fight on Mars for this long. Even if he survived, his remaining source energy blocks couldn't possibly support him in destroying the tractor field..." "Yet he did survive! Why shouldn't he be able to destroy it?" Human nature seemed perpetually inclined to greed: having received one miracle, people immediately began wishing and hoping for the next. "Otherwise... are we supposed to organize an expedition immediately to land and fight on Mars?! What other way is there to stop it?" Finally, a councilor could no longer hold back from voicing the question that had lingered in so many minds. He pressed on with a barrage of inquiries: "The question is, is such an expedition feasible? Does Azure possess the capacity right now? Even if we do, how many should go, and who should they be?" No one present could answer this barrage, for the councilors had never studied such an undertaking. Azure had indeed often spoken of the hope that one day humanity's source energy fleet and super legions would grow powerful enough to repel invaders beyond the vault of Blue Star... But that was meant for the future, perhaps a very distant future. It certainly was not for the present. With Azure's current capabilities, they could manage only the first step: using captured Great Spike motherships to transport a massive force to Mars. As for the second step and everything after, no one knew. "Are our soldiers expected to fight Great Spikes in spacesuits?" "Presumably so. Or perhaps only those capable of sensing and utilizing life source energy should go. In that case, as long as they don't engage in prolonged combat, they ought to manage." "That would mean gambling humanity's entire hope. We hardly have many people capable of sensing and using life source energy, and they are humanity's entire future." *** While late night enveloped Azure Headquarters, broad daylight shone over the Stream Blades base. Autumn sunlight bathed the snow-capped mountain and the vast woods at its foot. Rustling bursts echoed through the forest as foliage was battered aside in rapid succession. "Aah! Help!..." Liaison Officer Yang Tieyu, supposedly from the future, dragged a war saber backward behind her as she fled for her life, screaming frantically for aid. By now, almost everyone at the Stream Blades base knew that Liaison Officer Yang was a top-tier powerhouse who was terrified of blades. After more than three months together, some among them had vaguely guessed her true identity, feeling thrilled and overjoyed. But since Major Qing and Ensign Wen chose not to expose it for now, no one discussed it openly. However, the aunties cleaning the dormitories began tidying her room spotless every day, and the cooks in the special kitchen stopped complaining altogether, wearing tender, affectionate smiles as they worked. "Our Rusty Sister can finally eat real food. She can finally taste our cooking." Just thinking about this filled them with immense joy. As a result, the entire Stream Blades base grew inexplicably warm, tender, and sappy—except for a select few. "Our Rusty Sister can finally wear skirts, white shirts, and denim jackets. She can braid her hair, wear a ponytail, and pout her lips to blow up her bangs." "Yes, our Rusty Sister can finally smell flowers and feel warmth and cold." "She blows her bangs every day, probably thinking she looks so cool doing it. But she truly looks lovely when she smiles." "Yeah, though her speech still seems a bit thick-tongued." Rusty Sister's unclear speech had been an issue from the start. Back then, she spoke rarely and kept quiet, so few noticed. Later, when she became more talkative and chattered enthusiastically, everyone realized the pretty young girl's pronunciation was somewhat muffled and strange. Calling it a lisp wasn't quite accurate, but it sounded somewhat similar. In truth, her vocal environment had simply changed. For all those years, sealed inside iron armor, she had relied on her internal source energy circulation to stay alive. Gradually, she had grown accustomed to relying on source energy vibrations to assist her mouth in projecting and transmitting sound without sufficient air. Thus, her muffled, hollow voice in those days had not been caused solely by the iron casing; her vocalization itself had depended on the resonance of low-frequency source energy vibrations. Now that she was out, she had trouble adjusting to normal speech... "Aah! Help! Someone is molesting me!" She was still sprinting, still yelling for help. In reality, Rusty Sister was no longer that afraid of blades. When a top-tier fighter like the Little Prince sparred with her using a saber, she wasn't scared in the least. She had discovered she was now powerful enough to unleash an attack through her source energy field from fifty meters away, blasting the Little Prince flying. So she had constantly sought out the Little Prince to spar, practicing diligently and with great delight. However, starting last week, the person chasing her down every day had been Han Qingyu. Rusty Sister couldn't blow this guy back with her vibrations. What was worse, every single time he gave chase, surging with source energy, he closed his eyes and hacked away the moment he caught up... He had nearly wounded her twice already. *Thwip-thwip-thwip...* Reluctant to burn source energy blocks on airships on ordinary days, a fuel-powered helicopter circled above the woods. "Who?! Holy shit, in broad daylight, who's molesting someone?!" Wen Jifei laughed as he watched the utterly ruthless chase below. "Daring to harass our Azure liaison officer! Major Qing, you beast, you've gone too far!" "...Mauling! She meant mauling!" Han Qingyu was forced to halt, gritting his teeth to correct her pronunciation. With that, the pursuit naturally came to a pause. Just then, He Tangtang came sprinting through the forest dragging the Little Prince behind him—the Little Prince flapping horizontally through the air like a banner—until they reached Han Qingyu. "How is it? Is she still scared?" Upon arriving, He Tangtang glanced toward the direction where Rusty Sister had vanished in a puff of dust. "Yeah." Han Qingyu nodded helplessly. None of them had expected that even after two months out of her iron armor, Rusty Sister still hadn't overcome that fear. Could they simply keep her off the battlefield from now on? That was unrealistic. Besides, she was so strong now—leaving her out would be a terrible waste! "She used to be such a ferocious iron bucket! Sigh!" He Tangtang sighed theatrically, then finally remembered he was still carrying a person. He quickly set the Little Prince down and said, "Right, the Little Prince said he had urgent news for you. I ran into him on the way, saw how slow he was running, and gave him a lift." "..." Han Qingyu suppressed a smile and turned. "What is it, Little Prince?" "Pegmont... has been found," the Little Prince panted heavily. "Found?!" "Yeah." "Where?" "Mars." "Oh... Where did you say?" "Mars." "Just him alone?" "Yup." The Little Prince paused to recall the transmitted message. "Right, and Great Spikes. Also, there seems to be a tractor field."