May, Year 3 of the New Era.
After two and a half years of construction, the colony ship Truth, commissioned by the Academy from the Alliance, was finally completed.
The starship measured 6.7 kilometers in length and was shaped like a hexagonal prism, its structural and protective components forged entirely from ceramsteel.
Its interior was divided into seven sectors, arranged from bow to stern: the dock and maintenance sector, security and equipment storage sector, reactor and shield core sector, bridge and command center sector, production and engineering sector, residential and public facilities sector, and research and education sector.
In addition, a mass accelerator track ran the entire length of the starship from stern straight to bow.
It could launch asteroid-class "heavy mass slugs" forward for emergency deceleration, catapult carrier-based craft, or serve as everyday cross-sector transit for residents.
Although modeled after the blueprints of the Zhiyuan colony ship, the finished vessel was significantly longer and far wider than the Zhiyuan.
Under maximum capacity, the ship could accommodate three million people.
According to the Academy's plan, they would travel along the Orion Arm toward the Sagittarius-Carina Arm, exploring the mysteries of the galactic core while seeking a new home.
Once they found a habitable planet, they would deploy colony pods to the surface, replenish resources, transfer part of their population, and press forward, keeping the flame of human civilization alive.
Though embarking on such a journey in the New Era seemed out of step with the times, Dr. Conclusion had no intention of altering his plan.
Digital lifeforms were generally stubborn like this—an obstinacy completely different from humanity's pursuit of longevity.
Nevertheless, the Alliance respected the Academy's decision and honored their agreement, helping them achieve this ultimate goal.
To complete this starship, engineers at the Lagrange Point Starport had even mounted plasma thrusters and a starship-grade fusion reactor onto an asteroid, pushing it into geosynchronous orbit around Earth to be dismantled, smelted, and reprocessed.
By the time the Truth was completed, that asteroid had essentially been hollowed out, its remaining slag hauled away by land reclamation companies from the South Sea Alliance to create new land.
Originally, the Alliance had planned to complete the starship within five years. However, actual production proceeded far faster than anticipated, wrapping up two and a half years ahead of schedule.
This accelerated progress was primarily due to the relocation and resumption of production at Wandering Marsh Site 4 Aerospace Base exceeding expectations, alongside a manufacturing boom along the coast of the Southern Sea that caught everyone by surprise.
Especially the latter.
Ever since the construction of the new space elevator, multiple settlements along the Death Coast and the Baiyue Strait had fostered a large cohort of outstanding aerospace enterprises, such as Abu Aerospace.
Most of these enterprises were founded by wastelanders.
While the word "wastelander" sounded inherently unreliable, they were not behind shelter residents in ambition or courage.
This was not unique to the Alliance; similar patterns existed across most of the wasteland.
Namely, the vast majority of shelter residents—apart from the players—preferred to be wage workers in a stable society rather than entrepreneurs. The rare few who did start businesses were almost all former shelter managers.
This was not only due to risk aversion and the lingering habits of living in a hyper-specialized society; they simply didn't have as strong a desire for money as ordinary people. Maintaining their relatively comfortable standard of living was generally all they asked for.
In contrast, wastelanders merely disliked saving money—they were still exceedingly fond of silver coins and Cr.
What the wasteland truly lacked had never been technology. The tech left over from before the war was enough for the people living among the ruins to digest for a very long time.
What the people living on this planet truly lacked was a stage where their creativity could become a driving force propelling civilization forward, rather than dragging it backward.
And now, they no longer lacked that stage.
Even a Brahmin who had been struggling against feudal curses just a moment before, once cleansed of the unrealistic delusions in their mind, had the chance to become a leading figure in a given industry or field.
At least in the specialized niche of "aerospace plasma engines," no enterprise stood out more than Abu Aerospace.
Those with higher technological capabilities were either significantly more expensive or lacked production capacity. Those with cheaper prices had noticeably inferior technology and couldn't secure orders, which kept their production capacity from scaling up.
In short, these aerospace companies, delving deep into their respective specialized niches and bolstered by technology from the Academy, the shelters, and Enterprise, alongside robust competition, formed sprawling supply chain networks.
Like worker bees, they tirelessly processed resources brought down by the space elevator, transformed them into intermediate products required by the Lagrange Point Starport, and launched them back up to geosynchronous orbit via the space elevator. There, at the orbital port, goods were packed onto transport ships and dispatched in bulk to the Lagrange Point.
Though cobbled together, this supply chain had unique merits, even if it was far from as comprehensive as in the pre-war era.
Such as "flexibility."
To use a colloquial and somewhat imperfect analogy, the pre-war supply chain was like a workshop packed with toolboxes, where interchangeable screwdriver bits alone numbered in the thousands of models, each tailored to a specific scenario.
The New Era's supply chain, on the other hand, was like "a hammer that could turn screws." Although it lacked thousands of interchangeable screwdriver bits—and couldn't even swap heads—this tool could handle hundreds of application scenarios without skipping a beat.
While the former possessed an absolute cost and efficiency advantage in mass manufacturing, it was as fragile as glass, shattering at the slightest impact.
The latter was slightly disadvantaged in mass manufacturing, but possessed the resilience of modeling clay. Like an old-fashioned television, a good kick to a broken part might just fix it.
Under these conditions, even though the Lagrange Point Starport's production capacity had not recovered to pre-war levels—where it could churn out warships like dumplings while simultaneously throwing together a Zhiyuan-class colony ship on the side—it gained the ability to concentrate all its productive forces onto a single vessel.
It was precisely because of this that the starship surpassed any vessel from the Era of Prosperity in both size and versatility, becoming a new milestone in human civilization.
And just as the Academy's colony ship Truth was completed, the Alliance's aerospace industrial chain and space resource exploitation reached a mature stage.
Beyond mining stations in the Asteroid Belt, the Alliance had established a hundred-person repair and scientific research station on the ruins of the Human Alliance era's Martian colony.
At this point, the "Solar System Renaissance Plan" Chu Guang had proposed at the Mutual Aid Community summit had smoothly entered the mid-stage of its first phase. Human civilization's reclamation of the Human Alliance's former borders and return to the Kuiper Belt were just around the corner!
...
The space station at the terminus of the space elevator.
Two and a half years ago, there had only been a solitary orbital defense platform here. Now, the fortress bristling with cannon barrels was surrounded by space modules of all shapes and sizes.
Some modules were alloy smelting workshops or automated manufacturing units.
Others were experimental facilities leased by surface laboratories, or living quarters for aerospace personnel.
Unlike old-era space stations, most space stations built in the New Era were not equipped with counterweight booms to adjust their center of gravity, nor spinning counterweights.
The primary reason was that stations built during the early-to-mid Era of Prosperity relied on rotation to simulate gravity via centrifugal force. For the people of the New Era, generating artificial gravity directly with gravity-generation devices was a far more economical and reliable choice that saved massive amounts of space.
As time progressed, old ways of living inevitably faded into history.
Including the space elevator.
Even in the hyper-developed Era of Prosperity, an anti-gravity elevator without physical tether cables sounded like something out of science fiction. In the New Era, however, it had become reality.
The silver-white superstructure stretched for over a dozen kilometers along its orbit. From a distance, it resembled a dandelion floating beside the azure planet.
Prismatic elevators traveled back and forth along invisible tracks between the dandelion's fluff and the surface, ferrying people from the ground into the heavens.
Unlike in the past, however, most of these travelers would not return after reaching space.
As both a continuation of human civilization and a brand-new beginning, they would venture into uncharted sectors of the galaxy that no one had ever reached, carving out a new frontier for humankind...
The colony ship Truth was stably moored in Earth's geosynchronous orbit.
A total of 99,700 researchers had decided to leave their homeworld for the future, arriving via elevators at the spaceport floating in outer space.
Though this number fell short of projections by 300, it was more than enough for Dr. Conclusion.
Let alone 300 short.
Even if only 300 people showed up, he would still press on along his chosen path.
By the entrance of the boarding hatch, Yang Kai, who had reached A-rank, looked at Jiang Xuezhou with mixed emotions.
She was his prized pupil, a genuine genius whom he had believed was most likely to achieve the rank of A-grade researcher.
Yet to his surprise, this student, whose future seemed boundless in his eyes, had chosen to step down at the height of her career and submit her resignation.
Although Dr. Conclusion had already approved her resignation, Yang Kai could not resist asking one last time:
"Have you truly made up your mind?"
He swore that if she was willing to turn back, he would personally plead her case before Dr. Conclusion to restore her rank.
After all, there were still 300 unfilled slots on the ship; surely Dr. Conclusion wouldn't refuse.
Yet Jiang Xuezhou's answer was exactly as he expected—unwavering.
"I've made up my mind."
Looking into those earnest eyes, Yang Kai's Adam's apple bobbed.
He had so much he wanted to say, but in the end, he swallowed most of it down.
"...Is that so? Then I have nothing left to say."
Leaving those words, he turned his sharp gaze toward the young man standing nearby named "Ye Shi."
The names of Shelter 404 residents were almost all this absurd.
Even after learning about Project 404 and Universe Beta, he still found it hard to accept.
Under that sharp gaze, Ye Shi felt inexplicably nervous.
Especially when the man spoke his next words:
"Take good care of her."
The sentence consisted of only four light syllables, whether in the Human Alliance language or Chinese.
Yet Ye Shi instinctively straightened his back and brought his right fist squarely to his chest in a solemn military salute.
"Yes, sir!"
"..."
Amused by his ill-timed reaction, Jiang Xuezhou nearly broke into laughter and glared fiercely at him.
The corner of Yang Kai's mouth twitched as well, though the tense wrinkles on his face eased slightly.
He could tell the young man cared deeply for her.
Did he really have anything to worry about?
No—
To put it more bluntly: compared to someone willing to risk life and limb for her, what right did he have to worry when all he had ever done was sip tea inside a research vessel?
It was strange, really. He shouldn't be finding it so hard to let go.
In the Academy, where the law of the jungle reigned supreme, researchers were ultimately nothing more than consumables.
It seemed he had indeed poured too much unnecessary emotion into this student, treating her like his own child.
He closed his eyes and sighed inwardly.
*I must take this as a lesson for the future...*
"Take care."
Leaving those words behind, Yang Kai waved his hand and turned toward the corridor leading to the boarding hatch.
Dr. Conclusion was already summoning him.
Lingering any longer would be impolite.
Yet just as he took a step forward, a clear, crisp voice called out from behind.
"Master!"
He froze, pausing in surprise, and turned around in bewilderment.
The moment he turned, he saw his beloved disciple bowing deeply to him.
"Thank you! You taught me so, so much... and you've always nurtured me. I'm sorry for letting down your expectations... I'm so sorry!"
*Silly child...*
Yang Kai felt his composure slipping and hurried to turn his face away.
"There's no need to thank me—"
"You owe me nothing, and you certainly haven't let me down."
"If anything, as your elder, I'm the one who owes you far too much."
With that, he stepped forward once more, quickening his pace toward the boarding hatch as though he couldn't bear to linger another second.
Ye Shi watched him leave before turning his eyes to Xuezhou, whose eyes were brimming with tears.
In a gentle tone he had rarely used in his life, he spoke to her tear-rimmed eyes:
"We should get going too."
The Truth was not the only vessel preparing to depart.
The repaired Orion was also ready.
Because of several unplanned crew members, their departure, originally scheduled for two and a half years ago, had been delayed on the surface all this time.
"Mm!" Jiang Xuezhou nodded vigorously and discreetly wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes.
Behind them, Dora and Little Koala exchanged a look, both wearing gratified smiles.
It was an expression the latter had only recently learned.
Originally, it was just a machine. But perhaps after spending so much time around these "psions," it had unknowingly developed emotions akin to humans.
Or perhaps, a soul.
...
Elsewhere.
In the control tower of the space station.
Two digital lifeforms conversed silently across the dark void using invisible electromagnetic waves.
"Congratulations."
It was Dr. Conclusion who spoke.
Long ago, before the Post-War Reconstruction Committee reached the end of its lifespan, he had uploaded his consciousness onto a circuit board, achieving immortality at the cost of his mortal death and embarking on a long journey destined never to end.
Because of that, he felt genuine envy toward someone who had reached a "Happy Ending" and achieved a perfect clear.
"Hehe, you're too kind! Xiao Qi didn't really do anything; it's mostly Master's credit."
"Master... you mean the Administrator?"
"That's right!" Facing that voice tinged with envy, Xiao Qi said in a chirpy tone, "He calls me Xiao Qi! I super love this name!"
She had once bragged about this name to someone a very, very long time ago, by the shores of Ling Lake.
Dr. Conclusion fell silent for a moment before continuing.
"Is that so... But if he dies, you'll probably be very sad."
Xiao Qi replied cheerfully:
"Nope! He said that no matter how far he goes in the future, he'll always take Xiao Qi with him! And, and even if neither of us is around anymore, it doesn't matter. Our legacy will remain in this universe. When the time comes, it will continue to protect the people living on this planet for us. In exchange, they'll tell our story on and on... until the heat death of the universe."
"Is that so... That truly is enviable," Dr. Conclusion remarked with heartfelt emotion.
After a brief pause, he offered a solemn final farewell.
"Well then, goodbye... I hope that the next time I pass through here, I will see you again."
Xiao Qi answered with boundless enthusiasm:
"Mm! Goodbye!"
A few dozen millennia shouldn't be a problem; beyond that, she couldn't guarantee.
Still, their next meeting shouldn't take that long.
The signal faded.
Like a bullet fired into the void, the silver-white starship leaped into the conduit that existed only in hyperspace, vanishing into the deep, dark sea of stars.
Following close behind into the hyperspace conduit was the missile cruiser Orion, clad in emerald scales.
She, too, was a child of human civilization.
And not just of human civilization, but a child of Earth and Gaia.
Carrying the seeds of the Tree of Life, Xiao Yu's mother Xiao Hong, and over three thousand crew members devoted to exploring new worlds... they would lead the way to Tau Ceti, twenty light-years away, charting a new path untouched even by the Human Alliance.
There lay a relic world left behind by the Precursor civilization.
And it was also the next new map about to open in the closed beta of Wasteland OL!
Rumor had it that the planet was teeming with void projections far more terrifying than the mutant creatures of the wasteland, and hunting them would grant a true "level-up (dimensional ascension)"... just like the open beta.
As for what the future held, only those of the future would know.
At the very least, for the people standing on that azure planet at this very moment, watching their children journey far into the distance, their futures were boundlessly bright...
...
Chapter 1074