Chapter 13: Cracks in Resonance

Page 1/3

The red alarm lights on the bridge of the Ark ship exploded into a haze of crimson beneath the alloy dome. Xia Qing’s tactical gloves slammed heavily against the main console, sending ripples through the holographic star map. “Evasive maneuver to port!” Her voice vibrated with the hum of the hull. “Those Dyson membrane fragments are three times sharper than we estimated!”

Lin Shen gripped the metal casing of the quantum resonance device, his knuckles whitening from the strain. Outside the porthole, the Silver Fleet of the Star Hunters sliced through the star like a cluster of blades, each warship’s surface covered with honeycomb-patterned energy-absorbing plates, tearing the light and heat of Beta Centauri into twisted spots of radiance. The lead mothership suddenly unfurled six membranous wings—a miniature version of the Dyson membrane—refracting a cold, spectral rainbow in the vacuum.

“Incoming debris!” The weapons officer’s roar mingled with the shrill alarm. Lin Shen saw streaks of silver slash past the porthole, one piercing precisely through the Ark’s left engine plasma nozzle. The entire starship shuddered violently; his forehead struck the device’s edge, cracking his lenses like a spiderweb. The alarm tone abruptly shifted, and the red energy warning pulsated across everyone’s retinal display: “Engine power down to 42 percent, propulsion vector deviated by 17 degrees.”

“Hold the course!” Xia Qing grabbed a spare safety belt and fastened it around her waist. “Point-defense turrets cover port side—blast those damned things to scrap!” Dozens of threat markers flickered in her tactical visor, three closing in at 0.05c—Star Hunters’ “Scavenger drones,” designed to clear stellar debris.

Lin Shen staggered toward Emil’s light cocoon. The faint blue energy shield now seemed shrouded in a haze, its once-flowing starlight sluggish and heavy. Emil’s projection hovered in the center, a humanoid outline edged with fragmented glimmers, as if about to be torn apart by the vacuum. “Quantum network... connection interrupted,” her voice was softer than usual, like the wind blowing through stardust. “The Star Hunters are interfering with the resonance frequency—they’re erasing the star’s ‘memory.’”

“What do you need?” Lin Shen removed his broken glasses, pressing his fingertips against the surface of the light cocoon. The familiar cool sensation passed through the metal hull, mingled with a burning sting—that was Emil’s spirit overloading.

“Energy.” The reflection of a galaxy flickered in Emil’s eyes (if they could be called eyes). “Divert redundant power from the reactor to me. Within three seconds, or... the Dreamweavers’ last observation point will be severed.”

Lin Shen spun toward the energy control panel, his tactical boots drumming urgently on the deck. Xia Qing’s peripheral vision caught his back; she clenched her teeth. “Authorize energy transfer!” she shouted into the communicator. “Reactor team, divert 15% of antimatter flow—priority to the quantum network!”

The alarm tone suddenly slowed, as if pressed in slow motion. Lin Shen watched the energy bar drop from 87% to 72%, while the light cocoon’s indicator flickered green. But in the next moment, Emil’s projection warped into a swirling vortex; the blue halo around the cocoon shrank sharply, and the transparency readings fluctuated wildly—37%, 35%, 33%...

“That’s enough!” Lin Shen lunged back to the light cocoon, his palm pressed against the clouding energy shield. “If you keep going, you’ll—”

“Resonance requires reciprocity.” Emil’s voice cracked like tearing silk. Her fingertips, a phantom in the void, gently brushed the back of Lin Shen’s hand. “Your fear burns hotter than the Star Hunters’.”

Page 2/3

The light cocoon flickered dark for a moment with a soft “pop,” then brightened again; Emil’s projection was now so faint it was nearly transparent. Lin Shen’s breath caught in his throat—he recalled chapter ten on the lunar rooftop where Xia Qing said, “In the dark forest, whoever lights the fire first dies”; he remembered chapter eleven in Oleg’s office, the politician’s eyes reddened as he gripped the technology fragments; and now, on the bridge, every crew member’s retinal display pulsed with the words “41% probability of death” in blood-red letters.

“Captain!” The communications officer suddenly looked up. “Mars orbit monitoring has detected an abnormal launch! Coordinates locked on Lunar Base underground sector 3—that’s Oleg’s private launch silo!”

Xia Qing’s tactical visor instantly switched to tracking mode. On the holographic screen, a small unmanned ship trailed a plume of exhaust as it broke from lunar orbit, headed straight for the Martian colony. “Is that... reverse-engineered technology fragments?” Her voice was cold as metal in a vacuum. “He’s sending forbidden tech to Mars, using the colony as a testing ground!”

“Authorization to intercept?” The weapons officer’s finger hovered above the launch button.

Xia Qing’s thumb slammed down on the confirmation key. “Point-defense turrets, target priority above the Star Hunters!”

The ship trembled again as two railguns fired simultaneously. Lin Shen watched two streaks of blue light flash outside the porthole, striking the small ship’s thruster precisely. Amid the explosion’s firelight, he seemed to see Oleg raging before the lunar base’s surveillance screen—just like that night in chapter eight when Xia Qing had choked his trusted aide; Oleg’s expression was the same.

“Target destruction confirmed.” The weapons officer’s voice trembled with the relief of survival.

Xia Qing removed her tactical helmet; silver hair, damp with sweat, clung to her temples. She looked toward Lin Shen, her gaze sweeping over the nearly transparent Emil in the light cocoon and settling on the flashing red numbers at the energy control panel. “Go check on her,” she said softly, “then... prepare the second wave of defense.”

Lin Shen put his cracked glasses back on and approached the light cocoon. Emil’s projection was slowly sinking toward the bottom of the energy shield, like a melting fragment of starlight. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We... haven’t learned how not to be afraid.”

“Fear is the fuel of survival.” Emil’s phantom stirred. “But fuel that burns too brightly will burn right through the ship.”

The bridge alarms sounded once more—this time, the Star Hunters’ second wave of attack. Lin Shen watched the cocoon’s transparency reading stabilize at 34%, no longer falling. Xia Qing had already fastened her tactical helmet again; her silhouette stretched long in the blue glow of the holographic star map, like a sword pointing into the deep void.

Page 3/3

Oleg’s communication request suddenly popped up on Lin Shen’s terminal. The silver-haired politician’s face was twisted, the background noisy with base security chatter: “Professor Lin, you must understand, sometimes... sometimes civilization needs fire, even if it scorches!”

Lin Shen shut off the communication and turned to Xia Qing. She was adjusting the defensive matrix on the tactical screen, shadows playing over her profile, eyelashes casting delicate patterns on her visor. “Need a hand?” he asked.

Without turning, Xia Qing raised a hand and patted the empty seat beside her. “Come see this.” On the holographic display, the green dots representing the human fleet were reorganizing, forming an interlocking defensive network with the remaining Dreamweaver observation ships. “Emil’s quantum network still has 37 minutes of operation,” she said. “Enough to hold out until the third wave.”

Lin Shen’s fingers hovered over the console, suddenly feeling the warmth Emil had left on the back of his hand—that was not the temperature of a physical body, but something softer, like starlight passing through the atmosphere. He recalled chapter nine at the Lunar Soul base, when Emil said, “The quantum resonance network can sense the pain of stars,” and now he suddenly understood that hidden within that pain was a yearning for warmth.

“Thirty-seven minutes,” he repeated. “Enough time to do a lot.”

Xia Qing turned her face slightly, the light flickering behind her lenses. “Like what?”

“Like...” Lin Shen looked toward the light cocoon, where the pale blue halo was slowly rising again. “Learning to tune fear into the frequency of resonance.”

Outside the hull, the Star Hunters’ silver-winged fleet tore through the darkness, while the Ark’s engine nozzles glowed faintly with eerie blue light. In this starry abyss, cracks were spreading—but in some unknown corner, new patterns were quietly growing.