Deviation

Across every deck of the missile cruiser Orion, the voice from the command deck echoed through corridors, messes, lounges, heads, and directly over the head of every crew member. "...Crew of the missile cruiser Orion, good evening. I am Zhao Tianhe, your captain. "I apologize for disturbing your rest at this hour, but please grant me ten minutes of your patience to hear this broadcast in full. "As I am sure many of you have noticed, our ship encountered an unprecedented anomaly upon entering the hyperspace lane, and for reasons unknown, we have been brought to a halt within a rift in space-time... "To escape our current predicament, and for the sake of human civilization's future... "We must stand united!" ... Over the broadcast, Captain Zhao Tianhe laid bare the full sequence of events before the entire crew, outlining an operational plan jointly formulated by the First, Third, and Fifth Departments. The operation was codenamed "Daybreak." They would disguise themselves as the wreckage of their sister ship, maintaining absolute silence in the abyssal depths of outer space to deceive any observer. Beyond anyone's event horizon, they would endure a two-century veil of history until their timeline intersected with that of the youth from Year 215 of the Wasteland Era. This personal address from Zhao Tianhe triggered no small uproar across the cruiser. It was not merely because the youth named Ye Shi had his status as a "time traveler" officially acknowledged, but even more so because the broadcast had revealed the fate of the Gemini. Without having known a thing, they had become executioners who struck down their own comrades... In the lower-deck mess hall, a crowd of red-faced, thick-necked crew members argued violently. A bearded man slammed his fist onto a table, roaring with undisguised fury. "This is madness... Just on a suspicion, we fired a neutron torpedo at them?!" Sitting across from him with folded arms, Xiao Yong remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking. "I don't believe the captain was wrong. There was no way we could carry out that so-called 'Final War' initiative, and conflict was bound to happen sooner or later. Hell, the very moment we refused the order, the Gemini's torpedoes were probably already locked onto us." The bearded man glared daggers at him. "Where's your proof? Just your flapping gums?" "There is no proof," Xiao Yong replied, shaking his head and meeting the man's glare without flinching. "This is space. This is the void, and dead men don't get a say. I'm not afraid to die. I'd rather have been the one dying on that ship, but the cargo beneath our feet could never be handed over to them. My family is back on Earth... so they had to die." "You bastard..." The two looked ready to come to blows, but crewmates on both sides pulled them apart. Watching the unending brawl over the Gemini's fate, Lin Youyou, seated in a corner of the mess hall, could not help the sorrow that crept onto her face. She could not agree with Xiao Yong's words, nor could she agree with the decisions made by the captain and her colleagues in the First Department—even if they might have been right. Those were brothers-in-arms who had fought beside them, among the few surviving remnants of that war. If everyone resorted to such extreme measures to press their convictions, then even if they managed to scrape past this immediate crisis, they were destined to lose everything in their next desperate gamble down the road. Perhaps their present predicament, stranded in the hyperspace corridor, was simply destiny's punishment... She turned her gaze to Ye Shi, who was quietly eating beside her, and couldn't help but ask, "Do you think what we did was right?" She wanted to know how history judged them. Setting his chopsticks down, Ye Shi paused in thought before answering. "I don't know. In the history I know... the ones who bombarded us were you guys. But who knows? There's a long list of things after that we know nothing about—like the Orbital Airborne Division, the formation of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, and all the rest. To us, even the collapse of the Reconstruction Committee is distant ancient history, and you're from before they were even born." Seeing his grave, precocious demeanor, Lin Youyou felt a pang of sympathy. She reached out, intending to pat the boy's head, but quickly remembered that he disliked being treated like a child and drew her hand back. "You're talking about how history judges us. What I really want to know is what you think." "Me?" Ye Shi blinked, considered it seriously for a moment, and said, "I'd probably lean toward agreeing with what you did." "Why?" Lin Youyou pressed. "I was part of killing over three thousand people... our own comrades." "Maybe because I live in an era where if you don't kill one, ten thousand die?" Ye Shi shrugged. "Look at it another way: you just saved an entire planet of people." It was comforting talk, really; he wasn't entirely sure how to pass judgment on the matter himself. From the perspective of shelter dwellers, the only people who died seemed to be those who had failed to make it into the shelters. The vault dwellers themselves were largely untouched. In fact, most of the people saved back then still died in the end—dying agonizing deaths through prolonged torment, passing their suffering on to the generations that followed. Those who survived became the very first wastelanders. From that vantage point, the initiative called the "Final War" might not have been an unmerciful choice after all. Without wastelanders, the Enlightenment Society probably wouldn't have arisen, nor would the Church of the Torch, or the Celestials... Yet by that same token, the Post-War Reconstruction Committee would likely have vanished too, along with Boulder City, Singularity City, and all the seeds it had sown across the wasteland. That future would have belonged entirely to the shelter dwellers. They probably would have followed Project Ark's original vision, rebuilding a new Human Alliance on the wasteland strictly by the standards mapped out long ago. It was hard to say which future was better. Still, if forced to choose... "I think you guys did fine... Don't beat yourself up over it." Watching Ye Shi resume eating, Lin Youyou paused, then teased with a faint smile, "Look at you, comforting me instead." Chewing his food, Ye Shi replied slowly, "The first part was, I suppose. But the second part was from the heart." "I didn't expect you to be so thoughtful." Resting her chin on the back of her hand, Lin Youyou looked at the intriguing young man and suddenly asked with a teasing grin, "By the way, is that Jiang Xuezhou girl your girlfriend?" Ye Shi nearly choked on his rice. Blushing furiously, he coughed and sputtered, "What kind of weird nonsense is that? How could I be with an N— Anyway, we're not like that. We're teammates." Seeing his flustered look, Lin Youyou couldn't hold back a chuckle and playfully patted him on the back. "Haha, don't be nervous. In our era, taking things further with a teammate is completely normal. Is that kind of thing taboo where you come from? If so, no offense meant. I'm just curious about how people two hundred years from now get along... romantically, I mean." She was remarkably candid about her appetite for gossip. "No idea. Ask Fang Chang, he knows everything," Ye Shi brushed her off, shoveling food into his mouth even faster. "Is that so? But I'm more curious about this Jiang Xuezhou girl," Lin Youyou said with an amused smile. "If I manage to survive two hundred years, could you introduce me?" "Sure, I guess..." Ye Shi mumbled. If they really could meet two centuries from now, he wouldn't even need her to ask; he'd drag her around to show off to everyone himself, thoroughly flexing with his legendary exploits. Unaware of his inner thoughts, Lin Youyou took his words to heart, offering a gentle smile. "Then it's a promise." ... Although the tragic fate of the Gemini shook the three thousand officers and crew members aboard the cruiser, the unrest fortunately did not last long. Most regained their composure within a day, or even half a day. It was not because they were cold-blooded. It was because the ship's crew understood very well that their captain was right about one thing: For now, at least, they had to unite. This was not just to save themselves, but to save the people of the future, as well as the boy who had accidentally stumbled into their timeline and ended up trapped here alongside them. Even if their goal was merely to bring the captain who had ordered the strike on their allies to justice that much sooner, they had to pull together to weather the present storm. Carrying that shared conviction, both supporters and detractors of Zhao Tianhe set aside their disputes for the moment. And so, the initiative codenamed "Daybreak" progressed from initial mobilization into full implementation. Engineers from the Fourth Department deployed repair drones to carry out a battery of modifications to the ship's outer hull, including its livery. They first needed to disguise themselves as the Gemini, posing as the surviving vessel, and upon exiting the hyperspace lane, contact Lagrange Station under the Orion's identity to leave a log on record. Next came the creation of the artificial intelligence life-form known as the "Celestials." Even a sham sentient life-form would do— They needed the "observers" from the future to witness the birth of the Celestials with their own eyes! To be completely honest, Ye Shi did not harbor much hope for this fanciful scheme deep down, but he was genuinely moved by their resolve and self-sacrificing spirit. Logically speaking, he had materialized on this ship out of nowhere right when it became stranded in the hyperspace corridor; it wouldn't have surprised him at all if someone had proposed executing him. Yet not a single person had done so. Far from treating him with hostility or suspicion, they had looked after his injuries and fussed over his well-being. Whether the crew believed his tale or not, they treated him as a living, breathing human being. Ye Shi knew within himself that he was not so noble. Keeping his head in a crisis and keeping the uglier parts of human nature in check was already punching well above his weight. It was precisely because they managed what he could not that he felt so deeply touched. He was someone who returned whatever he received. How people treated him was how he treated them. So even though he knew full well this was merely a game's storyline, he could no longer view these people strictly as NPCs. They felt more like friends. Or rather, they were his friends. He wanted to help them break free of this labyrinth— All for that reunion two centuries later! Ye Shi wracked his brain to recall every detail he could about the Celestials, sharing everything without reserve with the personnel of the Robotics and Artificial Intelligence Department. As the starship's Tenth Department, it was ranked last in operational sequence, yet it was far more useful than the Fifth Department higher up the chain. Every intelligent program aboard the starship was maintained by this department. They also occasionally collaborated with other divisions to develop AI applications and assisted the Third and First Departments in repelling electronic warfare intrusions. The engineers of the Tenth Department were true coding masters. Graduates of elite Human Alliance academies, their individual genius might not match Jiang Xuezhou's singular brilliance, but their core competencies were every bit the equal of hers—and that went for each and every one of them. With Ye Shi's assistance, designing the Celestials proved surprisingly swift. It was an artificial intelligence capable of autonomous evolution. And its architecture was modeled entirely upon the ultraconservative faction within the Human Alliance Aerospace Force. It would see the cleansing of the wasteland's ecology and the restoration of the Era of Prosperity as its sacred duty, stopping at nothing—even the sacrifice of every survivor on the surface—to achieve it. By the standards of the Scientific Ethics Committee, an AI imbued with such anti-human directives was blatantly illegal from head to toe. In peacetime, everyone on the roster from the developer to the sponsors would have faced lawsuits and prison sentences. Yet they could no longer afford to care. After all, according to Ye Shi, even if they refrained, the hardline reactionaries on the Lagrange Point station would still develop a similar synthetic life-form—or even become such monsters themselves. That was an established fact of the future, an event that had already occurred and could not be altered. What they needed to do was usurp it. They would have this artificial intelligence, disguised as a devil, slay and supplant the genuine devil, only to be slain by "heroes" in the distant future. In this way, the causality spanning across time would form a closed loop. To ensure the devil could indeed be vanquished, they also embedded a fatal backdoor—a master key—during the creation of the Celestials. It was a specific cryptographic key. Anyone who input this key would trigger an automatic format of the Celestials, laying the monstrous entity to rest once and for all. Ye Shi had actually been eager to play the role of the "exorcist" himself, but unfortunately, as Dr. Wu explained, he possessed the traits of an observer. Were he to carry the key into the future, the key itself would very likely be rendered invalid. In other words, this honorable mission could only be completed by the missile cruiser Orion itself—the very ship that created the Celestials. According to Operation Daybreak, two centuries from now, they would rendezvous near the wreckage of the missile cruiser Gemini in geosynchronous orbit with Ye Shi, who would have returned to his own timeline. This was an indispensable link in the chain... After more than three hundred hours of grueling effort, all preparations were finally complete. With the assistance of the Orion's crew, Ye Shi lay back down into the hibernation pod where he had first awakened. He would use that dubious method to re-enter stasis, after which the Orion's crew would transfer him into the nearly demolished research craft. According to Captain Zhao Tianhe, he would not have to wait long inside; two hundred years later, they would arrive at the accident site to rescue him and revive him from the pod. Looking at the faces gathered before the pod, Ye Shi wore a complex expression, unable to resist one last quip. "...If you guys don't show up in my timeline, that means I'm the one who designed the Celestials." What kind of wasteland emperor did that make him? This was beyond messed up! "I give you my word, we will never abandon you. After all, that place is our home too." Luo Yi placed a hand on Ye Shi's shoulder, offering a solemn and resolute promise. "We will meet again, in the distant future." "I hope so... Based on what you said, for me it'll just be the blink of an eye anyway. If it doesn't work, at least I won't have to wait long or build up false hopes." At that point, Ye Shi drew a deep breath, gazing across those now-familiar faces and earnest eyes. "Still, I believe in you. All of you... "Let's do this!" "Take care..." Kaola patted his shoulder as well, then turned and followed Luo Yi out of the room. Lin Youyou gave him an anxious glance before following behind them. Wu Xinghuan was the last to leave. As the theoretical architect of the entire plan, he was the most apprehensive of all. Ye Shi gave him an "I've got this" look, then closed his eyes with his usual irreverent air. Worst-case scenario, it was just dying once. It wasn't like he hadn't kicked the bucket before. Yet thinking of Jiang Xuezhou waiting for his return somewhere in the cosmos, his stomach tied itself in knots despite his bravado a second ago. *Brother Guang!* *Your humble servant is on his knees!* *Get me back! Don't make me respawn!* The hatch of the hibernation pod slid shut with a soft hiss, and a biting chill crept up his spine toward his brow. His exhaled breath frosted against the viewport glass. He felt his waking consciousness waver and crumble, as if plunging once again toward that pitch-black, bottomless well. A flicker of dread welled up in his heart. Yet it was far too late to back out now. He could only grit his teeth and push forward. Just as he always had. Outside the compartment, Zhao Tianhe kept his eyes fixed on the hibernation pod before giving a nod to the personnel standing by in exoskeletons and spacesuits. "Begin." The technicians flashed an acknowledgment gesture, lifted the pod, and carried it toward the room sealed off by the cordon. Per the plan, they would load the pod back into the research craft, restore the scene as closely to its original state as possible, and withdraw all observation equipment capable of interfering with quantum entanglement. And then... Everything would reset to that very first moment. The research craft that had strayed into their space-time would revert into the Gemini's boarding shuttle. There would likely be combat personnel aboard. No matter. The Third Department's space combat team was fully prepared and waiting in full kit. They would neutralize the uninvited guests the instant they breached, disarm them, and secure them in stasis pods until the corrected causality formed a closed loop two centuries later. The lights in the corridor suddenly flickered without warning, as if some anomaly were underway. Looking at Luo Yi standing beside him in power armor, Wu Xinghuan held his breath, cold sweat soaking his palms. Almost the instant the Fourth Department engineers evacuated the quarantine zone with their gear, the hull shuddered faintly, as if struck by an impact. Everyone present felt the vibration— Like the reverberation of an explosion. It felt as if everything had returned to the origin of the temporal distortion. Surprise and delight surged through Luo Yi, and he instinctively tightened his grip on his assault rifle. Did they pull it off?! Yet a faint thread of unease tugged at him— Had too many people heard that explosion? The clues gathered from the Fourth and Eighth Departments still lingered in his mind. Only around two hundred people had heard the original explosion—227, to be exact. Yet right now, there were well over a hundred people present on this scene alone. There was no time left to ponder. If all went as expected, the Gemini's boarding party had already hit their lower deck. "Prepare for combat!" Xiao Yong bellowed, leading the charge. Blast doors slammed down, sealing off the decompression zone. Fifty combat personnel rapidly took their positions, closing in on the incident site in a pincer formation. Reaching the entrance to the gym, they first hurled a short-range EMP grenade inside to suppress any potential drone hardware. Then, two heavy power armor suits spearheaded the breach, leading the charge straight into the room. A shuttle-class vessel rested there. Its metallic hull, measuring two meters across, was crumpled and warped inward from the impact—and its silhouette was unmistakably different from what they had seen before— The ship had changed! Which meant... It worked?! Everyone held their breath, maintaining their suppressive formation as they advanced on the craft. Xiao Yong pumped a fist toward Luo Yi, who nodded and moved forward. Gripping the warped alloy hatch, he engaged his armor's brute servo-power and tore it free with a shriek of metal. A dozen gun barrels snapped toward the interior, covering every angle instantly. No one... Luo Yi's heart sank halfway into his chest. And when his eyes fell upon the familiar hibernation pod, everyone's spirits plunged straight to rock bottom. Watching the forward feed on the holographic display outside the quarantine zone, Wu Xinghuan stood frozen, the blood draining from his face. "How could this..." Zhao Tianhe turned a grim gaze toward the navigator beside him. The navigator shook his head with visible difficulty. "We're still in the hyperspace corridor..." They hadn't escaped. It was as if they had walked a vast circle through a dense forest, only to end up right back where they had carved their first mark on a tree. Executive Officer Wu Mengke let out a soft sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a weary forefinger. "We can't say it was entirely fruitless. At least the ship changed... Something must have gone wrong somewhere." Glancing at her utterly stunned younger cousin, she shook her head and pressed her comms unit. "...Get him out of there first. We'll talk after."