Chapter 3
4021words
As if it wasn't a coincidence, but a dance rehearsed hundreds of times.
Outside the window was the deep, boundless universe, cold and vast. And deep within this flagship of absolute order, in the private space of an imperial commander, something disordered and unquantifiable was quietly beginning to sprout.
The "Leviathan" was performing a high-difficulty star chart calibration.
The spatial ripples generated by the jump engine unexpectedly coupled with the gravitational field of an unknown neutron star, causing a one-millionth deviation in the navigation data. This figure would be negligible in civilian navigation, but for the Imperial First Fleet, which adheres to absolute precision, it was an intolerable flaw.
In the observation room, Nikolai frowned deeply.
He personally took over the calibration procedure, his slender fingers dancing rapidly across the holographic console, streams of complex commands cascading down like waterfalls. However, that damned deviation value, like a stubborn virus, persistently remained regardless of how he optimized the algorithm.
"Hum——"
The console emitted a slight overload warning, and a line of red error code popped up.
Nikolai's movement stopped. He raised his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, the tense line of his jaw betraying his current emotions. This was an extremely rare sight—this commander, always as calm as an iceberg, for the first time revealed an emotion in front of his subordinates that could be clearly interpreted as "irritation."
The air in the entire observation room seemed to freeze; no one dared to speak up and disturb him.
However, in this suffocating silence, a faint, soft voice suddenly rang out without warning.
That voice came from inside the medical pod.
It wasn't language, but a kind of tuneless, gentle humming. Like a warm stream, it penetrated the cold one-way observation window, silently flowing into this frozen air. The humming was childlike, with a slightly tentative quality, yet it possessed a strange soothing power, as if it could smooth even the sharpest edges in the universe.
Nikolai raised his head, his gaze shooting toward the medical pod.
Through a narrow observation slit on the pod door, he saw that "Felis" was lying at the energy barrier closest to him, her small face pressed against the transparent wall. She couldn't see the scene outside, but seemed able to sense something. She wasn't looking at him, just gazing in his direction, softly humming that tuneless melody.
She even awkwardly raised one hand, and across the impassable barrier, made a comforting gesture similar to a "caress."
In the Imperial understanding, there was no concept of "comfort." The weak obey the strong, errors are corrected, anxiety is a logical defect that needs to be overcome, not an emotion that needs to be soothed.
But at this moment, when that meaningless tune and futile gesture appeared together, the frustration in Nikolai's heart brought on by technical bottlenecks actually subsided like parched earth soaked by spring rain, incredibly settling down.
He stared at her for a while, then made a decision that no one had anticipated.
He turned around, walked to the control panel of the medical cabin, and entered a complex series of commands.
"Buzz——"
The invisible energy barrier that had confined "Felis" slowly retreated backward with a faint electrical sound, clearing out a safe activity area of about ten square meters in the center of the cabin.
"Commander?" The deputy's voice was filled with shock and confusion.
"Let her move around a bit." There was no emotion detectable in Nikolai's voice, but those who knew him could feel that his irritation had disappeared. "Continue monitoring all vital signs and behavioral data."
Felis inside the cabin was clearly stunned as well. She carefully extended her foot, tentatively stepping onto the cold floor, confirming that the invisible wall had truly disappeared.
Freedom.
Even if it was just a tiny space, to her, it was no different than the entire world.
The timidity in her eyes was quickly replaced by vigorous curiosity. Like a young beast leaving its nest for the first time, she began to explore this vast and novel space. She walked to a floating scanner, extended her finger, and gently touched its cold metal shell. The sensation at her fingertip made her withdraw slightly, but she immediately pressed it back again, feeling the subtle flow of energy on its surface.
Her fingertips glided over those precision instruments, over those control panels flashing with data. She dared not venture too far, always maintaining a subtle safe distance from Nikolai. But those eyes of hers, those obsidian-like orbs, possessed greater penetrating power than any high-precision detector, greedily absorbing all the information around her.
Nikolai just stood there, watching quietly. Watching her explore the empire's highest technological achievement with the most primitive touch and sight. The scene was filled with absurd contradictions, yet harmonious beyond belief.
Just as she touched a quantum terminal used for hyperspace communications, the unexpected happened again!
"Alert! Alert! Unknown high-dimensional signal intrusion detected! Core intelligence system 'Titan' has triggered Level A emergency protocol!"
The sharp buzzing alarm echoed throughout the entire ship! Countless red warning lights flashed frantically, and the flagship's defense systems were instantly elevated to maximum level!
Everyone was stunned by this sudden change. An intrusion? In the heart of the "Leviathan"? How could this be possible!
Nikolai's pupils contracted sharply, his gaze instantly locked onto the troublemaking "Felis" and the quantum terminal she was touching!
"Cut the connection!" he commanded sternly.
However, it was already too late.
The Chief Scientist pointed at the wildly fluctuating data stream on the main screen, his voice trembling: "No... Commander... this isn't an intrusion! It's... it's resonance! Her brainwaves... her brainwaves frequency is somehow creating low-level interactions with the Titan's quantum core! God help us... this, this is impossible!"
Dead silence fell over the room.
A flesh and blood being, a primitive creature diagnosed with "brain damage," could actually "interact" with the core AI—the embodiment of the Empire's highest intelligence, composed of pure energy and logic?
This was beyond an anomaly; it was a miracle, or rather, a nightmare.
Felis herself was terrified. She withdrew her hand as if shocked, staring in horror at the machine that was emitting a sharp alarm because of her, before retreating to a corner, trembling.
The alarm was quickly manually disabled, but the shock it brought was like a violent earthquake of thought, shaking every person present to their core.
"Commander!" The adjutant was the first to react. He stepped forward to stand before Nikolai, his expression more serious than ever before. "This creature... she is too dangerous! She can silently influence the core system, which goes beyond the scope of a 'specimen'! I suggest immediately placing her under the highest level of physical isolation, or even... complete elimination to prevent future troubles!"
The adjutant's suggestion completely complied with the Empire's security protocols, logically flawless.
However, Nikolai gave an answer that felt unfamiliar to both his adjutant and himself.
"Rejected."
His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a massive stone thrown into a lake, creating ripples in thousands of layers.
"Commander?" The adjutant looked at him in disbelief.
"I said, rejected." Nikolai slowly turned around, fixing his adjutant with an indisputable, intimidating gaze. "From now on, her security protocol will report directly to me. Do you understand?"
These words had already far exceeded the concern that a commander should have for a mere "specimen." The intense possessiveness and uncompromising protective stance they conveyed were clearly perceived even by the usually rational adjutant.
The adjutant opened and closed his mouth, but ultimately lowered his head under Nikolai's cold and resolute gaze: "...Yes, Commander."
The follow-up to this matter was a strictly controlled "physical fitness test."
Under Nikolai's instructions, the scientists wanted to explore the limits of her body. They made her run in specially designed gravity fields to test her endurance; had her navigate through complex obstacles to test her agility.
She was very weak, with all metrics far below the minimum standards for imperial soldiers. Yet she was also very strong.
When the gravity increased to the point where she could barely stand, she crawled on all fours, her teeth clenched and grinding, yet she never stopped. When fatigue made her muscles ache and cramp, she would fall, but immediately struggle to get back up, with sweat and tears mixing together, blurring her vision.
What drove her was no longer merely the instinct for survival. It was something deeper—a longing for freedom, a desire to form a "connection" with this world. She seemed to understand that only by demonstrating her value could she escape the identity of being a "specimen."
When the test ended, she collapsed on the ground exhausted, gasping for air like a fish out of water.
But she didn't close her eyes.
She lifted her head, using every ounce of strength left in her body, and directed her gaze toward the silent figure behind the observation window.
In her gaze, there was no longer the initial fear, no longer pleading. Instead, there was an undisguised, flame-like burning defiance and challenge.
Nikolai seemed to feel she was silently declaring to him: I am not your possession, I am an independent life.
Nikolai quietly held her gaze.
Those eyes were like two burning meteors cast into the still lake of his mind. For the first time, he felt a strange, shaken sensation, as if the logical system of order, control, and power that he had always believed in without doubt was having a small crack pried open at its foundation by this fragile yet tenacious gaze.
Crisis, like the breath of the universe, descended without warning.
"The Leviathan" was navigating through an asteroid belt known as the "Ghost Graveyard," the remnants of an ancient supernova explosion, filled with unstable energy and deadly radiation. Years of clearing operations had made this route relatively safe, but in the depths of space, there was always the unknown that data could not fully capture.
"Alert! High-energy gamma ray burst detected! Intensity... exceeding safety threshold by three hundred percent!"
The piercing red alarm instantly shattered the bridge's tranquility. On the holographic star map, a massive, spiral-shaped dark red nebula was sweeping toward them at near-light speed.
"Activate Class A defense protocol immediately! Increase all energy shields to one hundred and twenty percent! Adjust course to avoid the radiation core zone!"
Nikolai's voice was like a stabilizing anchor, cutting through the chaotic alarms with crystal clarity across the entire deck. He personally took the command seat, his eyes fixed intently on the rapidly rising radiation levels on the main screen, his mind working at unprecedented speed as he issued a series of orders with methodical precision.
The flagship's massive body carved an elegant yet laborious arc through space, its energy shield resembling a flowing membrane of light, violently colliding with the deadly radiation streams, generating concentric ripples of brilliant but dangerous energy.
While the bridge was engaged in a tense game of racing against death, inside the medical bay, another silent and agonizing ordeal was unfolding.
The unknown interstellar radiation penetrated through layers of protection. Although most of it had been weakened, the residual energy fluctuations still permeated every corner of the flagship. For the physically robust Imperial people, this was merely an energy disturbance causing slight discomfort. But for Felis, it was nothing short of torture.
Her body seemed to have become an energy resonator. Every tremor of the flagship, every overload of the energy shields, was like a heavy hammer, striking violently against her nerves.
She curled up on the bio-bed, convulsing in pain, emitting suppressed and broken moans from her throat. Her vision became distorted and blurry, everything around her was spinning, the cold walls seemed to be pressing in on her, and the light source above became a burning, malevolent eye.
She felt herself being torn apart, being melded into the pain of this steel behemoth. Every groan of the flagship became her own groan.
This perception transcended mere physical discomfort. Her pain seemed to create some kind of eerie resonance with the energy fluctuations of the entire flagship.
At the command seat, Nikolai furrowed his brow, his fingers working ceaselessly on the control panel. But in that critical moment between commands, an almost subconscious action revealed the undercurrent of his inner thoughts.
He allocated a small section of the screen to display the surveillance feed from the medical bay.
In the footage, that small figure was curled into a ball, violently trembling under the assault of radiation, like a fallen leaf that could be torn apart at any moment in a violent storm. Her suffering, helpless appearance was like the sharpest needle, unexpectedly piercing Nikolai's heart.
At that moment, an emotion he had never experienced before surged up like a flood breaking through a dam.
It wasn't pity for a specimen, nor sympathy for the weak.
But rather... a fierce and unreasonable protective instinct to shield her behind him, to block the entire universe's storms for her.
This thought was so unfamiliar and intense that it distracted him for a tenth of a second. It was this tenth of a second of distraction that caused his evasive command to be delayed by half a beat.
"Boom——"
The flagship's starboard side was swept by a strong radiation stream, causing the ship to violently shudder.
Nikolai instantly regained his focus, his gaze becoming even colder, and his subsequent commands increasingly precise and ruthless.
No one knew that the Empire's most composed commander, while facing a crisis that threatened the entire fleet, had once experienced a tremendous inner turmoil because of a tiny Earth creature.
Hours later, when the "Leviathan" finally broke through the radiation belt without incident, long-suppressed cheers erupted on the bridge.
"The crisis is over."
Nikolai announced the result, and without waiting for his subordinates to report, he stood up from the command seat and, under the surprised gazes of everyone, walked straight to the medical bay.
He pushed open the door to find the cabin in disarray, with several instruments shut down due to power overload. The small figure, after enduring hours of torment, had fallen into a semi-comatose state, with only faint breathing proving she was still alive. Her forehead was burning hot, and her body was still involuntarily convulsing.
Nikolai walked to the bedside and silently gazed at her.
Then, he slowly raised his hand, and with his distinctly knuckled fingers that carried the cold air of years of military service, gently and tentatively touched her forehead.
In the instant when those cold fingertips made contact with her burning skin, a miracle occurred.
Felis, who had been painfully convulsing, suddenly went rigid. Then, her rapid and chaotic breathing, like soothed tides, abruptly steadied.
She slowly opened her eyes.
Those eyes, scattered with pain, gradually regained their focus when they saw Nikolai's distinct facial features just inches away. The chaos and instinct receded, replaced by an incredibly clear, utterly rational light.
It was the glow of human intelligence.
She was awake. Or rather, a part of her, in this moment, had completely awakened.
She could feel that what transmitted from those cold fingertips was not malice, not scrutiny, but a clumsy yet profoundly genuine care. That power, like a clear spring, instantly extinguished the painful flames burning within her body.
Neither of them spoke. In this cold medical cabin filled with the smell of disinfectant, an imperial commander from high above and an Earth woman who had become a prisoner, through the simplest of touches, completed their first truly meaningful, silent connection that transcended species and class.
Her eyes were filled with complex emotions—gratitude, dependence, and a hint of deeply hidden... sadness.
However, this moment of clarity lasted only a few seconds. The tremendous exertion left her without strength to sustain it; her eyelids fell heavily, and she sank back into deep unconsciousness.
Nikolai withdrew his hand, the burning sensation of her touch seemingly lingering on his fingertips. He stood quietly for a long while, until his deputy hurriedly arrived.
"Commander," the deputy's voice was very low but couldn't conceal its gravity, "urgent communication... from the Imperial High Council."
Nikolai turned around, resuming his usual coldness.
"Speak."
"The Council... has already detected the abnormal energy fluctuations when we captured the life form in the G-618 sector (Earth), as well as... the subsequent impact the specimen has had on the core AI 'Titan'." The deputy reported with difficulty. "They have activated the 'Red Code' investigation protocol, demanding that we immediately transfer the specimen... to the Supreme Academy of Science on the capital star for 'deconstructive' research."
"Deconstructive research"—that was the Empire's standard terminology for handling high-risk unknown entities. Its meaning was self-evident.
An enormous pressure, like an invisible mountain, came crushing down upon Nikolai.
He didn't answer immediately, but turned to look at the unconscious figure on the bed. Hand her over? Let her be completely dismantled and analyzed like an object by those mad scientists?
No.
This thought almost burst out involuntarily.
After an unknown period of time, Felis gradually regained consciousness from her coma. Her body was still weak, but the excruciating pain that had been burning through her heart and bones had passed. She opened her eyes to find that Nikolai was surprisingly still there.
He was sitting in a chair not far from her, seemingly resting with his eyes closed, but his furrowed brow indicated he was troubled by some enormous problem.
She struggled to sit up, moving her arm and making a slight noise.
Nikolai immediately opened his eyes.
Their eyes met, and she saw the fatigue and gravity in his. For some reason, she wasn't afraid of him; instead, she felt an impulse from deep within to move closer to him. She propped herself up, slowly climbed out of bed, and walked to him.
Her gaze fell upon a section of his strong forearm exposed beneath his rolled-up uniform sleeve. There, an old and ferocious scar, like a dormant centipede, lay coiled on his skin.
This scar, so at odds with his perfect and powerful image, added a touch of mortal, broken color to his cold exterior.
As if possessed, she reached out her hand, with those slender, slightly trembling fingertips, carefully exploring toward that scar.
Nikolai's body instantly tensed, the instinctive reaction of a soldier facing threat. But looking at her clear and curious eyes, he saw no malice there, only the purest inquiry.
In the end, he didn't move.
He silently permitted her touch, allowing that soft, warm fingertip to gently fall upon the scar that symbolized a suppressed, fragile past.
That touch of fingertips was like a stone thrown into the center of a lake, completely shattering the tranquility within Nikolai's heart. His code of conduct, built upon logic and order, began to show more and more "anomalies."
He no longer merely observed from within the observation room, but during non-working hours, actively entered the space that once belonged only to the "specimen."
He began to teach her.
"Star... star..."
Inside the medical pod, Felis tilted her head up, watching as Nikolai's fingertip traced brilliant light bands across the holographic star map, mimicking the vocabulary he had just taught her with an awkward yet earnest tone. The Empire's language was extremely complex for her; each syllable felt like forming entirely new muscle memory, but she learned with meticulous attention.
Nikolai was extremely patient. He would slow his speech, breaking down each word into the simplest syllables, demonstrating repeatedly. His voice remained deep, yet shed its usual coldness, gaining a hint of gentleness that even he himself had not noticed.
He showed her the spiral arms of the galaxy, telling her it was "Krasu's Eye"; he pointed to a burning star, telling her that was "Light"; he pointed at her, then at himself, and spoke two of the simplest words: "You," "I."
His behavior had far exceeded the scope of a captor and researcher, more like a... lonely teacher, facing his only and most special student.
And Felis's learning ability could only be described as "astonishing." That brain determined to be "damaged" displayed sponge-like efficiency in absorbing knowledge. The fire of her rationality had not been extinguished, but rather burned more and more vigorously.
Soon, she was able to express herself with some simple, fragmented words.
"Hungry." She would point to her stomach.
"Cold." She would hug her arms and shiver.
"Light... beautiful." She would point at the brightest nebula on the star map, her clear black and white eyes sparkling with pure joy.
Her world, under Nikolai's guidance, transformed from a cold prison into a wonderful universe that could be perceived and understood. And her curiosity expanded with it, beginning to push Nikolai in return.
"Why... is there an 'Empire'?" Using vocabulary she had just learned, she asked her first truly meaningful question.
Nikolai was stunned.
How should he explain to a soul that was almost a blank slate the complex concept of "Empire" - constructed from billions of lives, thousands of years of history, countless wars and laws?
He remained silent for a long time, finally choosing the simplest answer: "For... order."
"Order?" She tilted her head in confusion.
"Yes," Nikolai looked into her clear eyes, attempting for the first time to analyze his unwavering beliefs, "To ensure every planet orbits on its proper path, neither deviating nor faltering. To end chaos and war."
His heart, in this simple exchange of questions and answers, unknowingly opened just a crack. Those deeply buried beliefs he had never spoken to anyone became, for the first time, something he could share with someone else.
Today there was lightly grilled fish, with a strange texture, but Felis really liked it - this was Nikolai's unexpected discovery.
So the commander, for the first time in his life, arrived at the dining hall right on time.
The high-class dining hall was empty, with only mechanical arms humming away.
"Iris authentication successful."
"Good morning, sir! Based on your medical examination report, today's recommended dishes include seared Papa steak, sweet flower—"
"One portion of the recommended menu, and one portion of lightly grilled fish."
"Yes, sir. Now reporting the news for you. Recently there have been signs of asteroids deviating from their orbits in the Talos system. Experts state this is a normal phenomenon, no need to panic. NI7 system..."
Asteroids off course? Haven't seen that in a long time. Nikolai's family bloodline intuition told him that this orbital deviation wasn't as simple as it seemed.
Nikolai was still thinking about this issue as he left the dining hall.
"Good morning, sir!"
A soldier greeted Nikolai, but with his hands completely full, he couldn't return the salute to the officer, only managing a slight nod in response.
For the first time, the Commander looked so awkward.
But seeing how happily Felis was eating, Nikolai didn't mind at all. His heart was unexpectedly calm.
However, this fragile and peculiar tranquility was destined not to last.
A cold warning arrived at the "Leviathan" along with a shuttle bearing the emblem of the Imperial High Council.
The special investigation team had boarded.
In the lead was an inspector with a serious expression and eyes as sharp as an eagle's, followed by a group of expressionless scientists and guards equipped with the highest-grade weapons. As soon as they boarded, the atmosphere throughout the flagship froze, with tension and oppression permeating the air.
"Commander Nikolai," the inspector's voice was as cold as his expression, "By order of the High Council, we will conduct an independent and comprehensive examination of 'Unknown Specimen G-618-01'. During this time, please surrender all your related records and relinquish your S-level protection clearance for this specimen."
Nikolai stood before them, his posture as straight as a pine tree, showing no emotion on his face.
"Very well," he answered concisely, handing over a data pad, "All records are here. However, I must be present."
The inspector's eyebrow raised slightly: "Commander, this is not in accordance with protocol."
"This is my flagship." Nikolai's tone was irrefutable. "I must ensure that any inspection does not pose a potential security risk to my flagship."
