Chapter 2
2285words
The creature marked as a "unique lifeform" by the reconnaissance team, code-named "Felis," was currently curled up on the bio-bed like a frightened child. Her body, compared to an Imperial of equal proportion, appeared extremely petite and fragile, as if she would shatter at the slightest touch. Her jet-black hair was messily spread out, covering half of her face, while the exposed skin was so pale it was nearly transparent, revealing blue veins underneath.
A very primitive form. Nikolai made his evaluation mentally. No hardened carapace, no sharp claws or fangs, not even basic energy-sensing organs. How had such a species survived through that cataclysm?
He pulled up the preliminary analysis report from the medical AI.
[Unknown Biological Specimen, Code G-618-01]
[Species: Unknown (Genetic sequence similar to 'human' in ancient blueprints)]
[Vital Signs: Stable, but showing stress response]
[Brain Activity: Abnormal fluctuations detected, preliminary inference suggests damage during energy catastrophe, advanced cognitive functions may be lost, current behavioral patterns primarily driven by primitive instincts.]
[Intelligence Level Assessment: Low.]
A... low-intelligence creature with brain damage?
Nikolai's gaze returned to the tiny figure. She seemed to sense being watched and suddenly looked up.
Through the thick observation window, Nikolai clearly saw her face for the first time. It was a face that conformed to certain classical aesthetic standards of the Empire, but what truly made his gaze linger was her eyes.
They were black eyes, like the purest obsidian. At this moment, those eyes were filled with extreme fear and confusion, tears dampening her long eyelashes, making her appear even more helpless. However, in the depths of that fear, Nikolai caught a glimpse of something entirely different.
Not ignorance, not emptiness.
But rather a... curiosity and vitality that, despite being overwhelmed by fear, still stubbornly flickered. Like a tender sprout defiantly emerging from ruins, tiny, yet containing the power to shake everything.
This feeling was faint, like static interference in a data stream, fleeting yet genuinely present.
This created an inexplicable dissonance with the system's report of "low intelligence." Logic told him that the AI's analysis was based on massive data and precise models, and couldn't be wrong. But his intuition, honed through countless wars and decisions, more sensitive than any instrument, was sending out a faint alarm.
"Anomaly," he muttered to himself.
"Designate it as a Class A observation subject," Nikolai ordered his adjutant beside him, his voice still as hard as iron. "Conduct twenty-four hour continuous monitoring, record all behavioral data. Before thoroughly analyzing its biological characteristics, prohibit any form of physical contact."
"Yes, Commander."
The adjutant left with orders. Nikolai did not move, his gaze still fixed on that small figure.
As if to confirm his sense of "abnormality," the "Felis" inside the medical pod made a new move. She seemed to have given up on futile crying and instead directed her attention to the invisible barrier confining her.
She extended her hands, which were excessively slender by Imperial standards, and began forcefully pounding on that seemingly empty area. With each impact, a faint ripple spread across the energy barrier before quickly dissipating. Her hands soon turned red and swollen, but she paid no attention to this.
When pounding proved ineffective, she began gnawing with her teeth. Those fragile, organic teeth appeared utterly ridiculous against the indestructible energy field. She even started to emit angry, feral snarls—no longer pleading whimpers, but challenging roars.
These behaviors, in Nikolai's logical cognition, were quickly categorized as "irrational," "ineffective," "meaningless consumption of energy."
However, watching that tiny creature tirelessly repeating these futile struggles, using her fragile flesh and blood body to crash against the technological barriers representing the absolute power of the empire, again and again, Nikolai's heart—filled with data and order—was, for the first time, gently stirred by something unquantifiable.
It wasn't pity, much less sympathy.
It was a kind of... pure contemplation of life's tenacity itself.
He turned around and left the observation room. Behind him, dull impact sounds continued to echo inside the medical pod, feeble, yet stubborn, one after another.
Time aboard the "Leviathan" was a precisely measured unit, but for the tiny creature in the medical bay, it only meant the alternation between two states: the blinding light, and the darkness that deprived all senses.
After an unknown period, that heart-wrenching fear, driven by survival instinct, finally settled into something more resilient—adaptation.
She no longer screamed and crashed futilely. She began to observe.
She discovered that those tall "guardians" with pale golden pupils had extremely regular routines. After each fixed period of "light" time, they would file in, scan her body with some glowing instruments, then leave. They never conversed, their movements as precise as programmed routines.
Among them, one figure was special.
It was that man who first made her feel watched through the observation window. He was taller than the others, with a colder presence. He came less regularly, sometimes just pausing briefly, examining her with eyes like cold stars, as if looking at a complex piece of art rather than a living being.
She didn't know his name, but in her heart, she marked him as "the Leader."
The animal survival instinct told her that to stay alive, she must understand this strange world, even if only a tiny bit. So, she began to learn.
When those "guards" gestured for her to raise her hand, she no longer resisted, but obediently raised her arm. When they made gestures indicating something, she would tilt her head and stare unblinkingly with her clear black and white eyes, trying to decode the meaning.
She even began to imitate.
Every time the "Leader" stood, his spine was perfectly straight, hands habitually clasped behind his back. She, on her biobed, clumsily imitated him, trying hard to straighten her fragile back. Occasionally, he would lightly tap his temple with his finger, as if deep in thought. When alone, she would carefully touch her own forehead with her fingertips.
These small, almost innocent gestures were faithfully recorded by the omnipresent monitoring probes, merging into the vast data stream.
"Commander, the latest data report on specimen G-618-01."
The deputy handed a glowing data pad to Nikolai. The bridge maintained its orderly busy appearance as Operation "Balance of Order" continued, with planet after planet being brought under the Empire's absolute rule. But at some point, this report from the medical bay had become the first thing Nikolai reviewed after handling military affairs.
He scrolled through the screen as columns of cold data appeared before his eyes.
[Physiological indicators: Metabolic rate stable, cell activity slightly increased.]
[Neural response: Response time to external commands reduced by 12.4%, showing preliminary learning ability.]
[Emotional fluctuation analysis: Fear threshold increased, curiosity index up by 7.8%.]
Below the data, there was an analysis conclusion written by the chief scientist: "...This organism demonstrates adaptability far beyond expectations, its mimicking behavior may be a social learning instinct common in higher primates. However, the physical fact of its brain damage remains unchanged, and the initial assessment of 'low intelligence' still stands."
Nikolai turned off the data pad, his eyes showing no emotion.
He dispatched the empire's top biologists, physicists, and neuroscientists to form a specialized research group. They investigated the "Felis" from all angles, treating her like an unprecedented cosmic mystery. They scanned her physical structure with the most precise instruments and analyzed her neural impulses with the most complex algorithms, attempting to break down everything about her into comprehensible data and models.
However, the more massive the data became, the stronger Nikolai's sense of "incongruity" grew.
The data could quantify her heartbeat, but couldn't explain the earnest awkwardness he felt through the screen when she imitated his movements. The data could analyze her hormone levels, but couldn't capture that fleeting, mischievous gleam in her eyes when she occasionally looked up.
He returned to the observation room of the medical pod once again.
Inside the cabin, two scientists were conducting a routine energy shield stability test. The "Felis" was quietly curled up in the corner, seemingly accustomed to such disturbances.
Just as Nikolai's gaze fell upon her, a sudden anomaly occurred!
A piercing alarm sounded without warning, and energy fluctuations from the bridge instantly interfered with the medical bay's systems. The lights throughout the cabin flickered sharply, and the energy field maintaining gravity experienced a brief malfunction lasting 0.73 seconds.
Weightlessness!
For Imperial citizens accustomed to artificial gravity, this was merely a minor accident. The two scientists quickly stabilized themselves, preparing to restart the system.
But for the "Felis" from a primitive planet, this was a catastrophic disaster!
She was violently thrown into the air by an invisible force, her body tumbling completely out of control. The unprecedented feeling of helplessness made her let out a terrified scream, her limbs flailing wildly in the air, like a drowning person futilely trying to grab onto something.
In the chaos, the closest person to her was Nikolai, who happened to be standing at the edge of the energy shield, frowning as he observed everything.
Due to some impulse that even he himself had not noticed, he surprisingly did not step back immediately.
In that instant, a warm, trembling little hand passed through the unstable edge of the malfunctioning energy shield and desperately clutched at the hem of his clothes.
In that moment, Nikolai's heartstrings were quietly stirred.
Not data, not a report, but an incredibly real, incredibly vivid sensation. That hand was small, with little strength, yet it carried a branding iron's heat that transmitted clearly through the tough fabric of his uniform. He could feel the violent trembling of that body, could hear the suppressed, fear-filled whimpers caught in her throat.
In that moment, she was no longer specimen G-618-01.
She was a life desperately fighting for survival in fear. Fragile, yet filled with a fierce, reckless strength to stay alive. This pure life force, like a warm current, instantly penetrated the cold shell he had constructed from data and logic.
The gravity field returned to normal in the next second. She fell back onto the biological bed with a "thud," but that hand still clutched tightly to the corner of his clothes, as if it were her only lifeline in the entire universe.
The two scientists watched this scene in horror, not daring to breathe. The commander's coat hem had actually been grabbed by a "specimen"!
Nikolai looked down at the small fist clutching his silver-gray coat hem, at those knuckles turning white from the effort. He didn't immediately shake it off, just stood there quietly. After several seconds, he reached out and, with two fingers, calmly and restrainedly, pried her fingers open one by one.
"Continue the test," he said expressionlessly to the terrified scientists, then turned and left the observation room as if nothing had happened.
But only he knew that the small crease on his coat hem and that faint, almost imperceptible warmth lingering on his fingertips, were like an undeletable anomaly in data, etched into his perception.
This incident seemed like just a small episode, but the chain reaction soon appeared.
A few days later, his deputy found Nikolai with a grave expression, holding an urgent report.
"Commander, please look at this."
The surveillance footage was brought up, showing real-time images from the medical pod. "Felis" seemed to have taken an interest in a spot in the corner. It was an interface of the energy circulation system, where all indicator lights on the precision instrument panel were showing green—everything normal.
But she persistently moved closer to that spot, extended a slender finger, and carefully, with a certain rhythm, tapped three times on an extremely tiny point on the panel.
The moment she completed this action, an energy leak reading that had puzzled the Chief Scientist for days—one so faint it was almost negligible—suddenly... zeroed out.
In the footage, the adjutant's projection enlarged as he pointed at the data stream, his voice filled with disbelief: "We... we used the highest precision scanners but couldn't locate this leak point. It was too minute, like cosmic background noise. But she... she not only found it, but also... 'repaired' it in some way we can't understand?"
A creature that had been labeled "low intelligence" with brain damage had accomplished a task that a team of the Empire's top scientists could not complete.
This fact hit Nikolai's cognition like a sledgehammer.
His worldview, which had always firmly believed in logic and data, showed visible cracks for the first time.
That night, Nikolai broke his routine by not staying on the bridge, but instead returned early to his private quarters.
His quarters were extremely spacious and stark. Apart from essential resting facilities and information processing terminals, there were no superfluous decorations. This aligned with his consistent style of eliminating all non-essential things.
But tonight, he did something non-essential.
Instead of handling military affairs concerning the fate of the galaxy, he retrieved all observation reports on "Felis" to his personal terminal.
With the lights dimmed, the entire cabin was illuminated only by the faint blue glow from the data panels, casting shadows across his profound profile.
He watched those recordings over and over again. Her clumsy imitation, her terrified screams, that moment of vulnerability when she clutched his sleeve, and... her incredibly focused profile when she repaired that energy point.
He reached out his hand, his fingers hovering in mid-air.
Then, uncontrollably, he began unconsciously tracing shapes over and over. He traced the curve of her curled-up body, traced her struggle as she waved her arms, and finally, he fixed on the posture of her extending her finger and gently tapping on the panel.
