Chapter 394: Tiny Happiness
History is written by the victors. If this daring escape succeeded, the immense risks would be justified, and the operation hailed as a triumph. If it failed, Jason, as the commander-in-chief, would bear the ultimate blame.
Fortunately, their chances of survival were steadily increasing.
The ship’s trajectory had been meticulously calculated. There were no massive celestial bodies along this vector, nor would they pass near any central stars that might subject them to gravitational drag. Their flight path formed a 140-degree angle with the enemy’s trajectory.
While traversing the system’s Kuiper Belt and Oort Cloud carried slight risks of undetectable micro-meteorites, the void of space was mostly empty.
At this point, minor collisions were low-probability events they simply couldn’t worry about. High-speed evasion was their only priority.
"Austin, you need to get some rest!" Jason said, patting his colleague’s shoulder. "Take a break. There will be plenty to do later."
Austin waved him off, his face lined with worry. "I’m not that tired. But I can’t help wondering... is our current situation going to end up just like the Viridian Empire?"
"The Viridians were eventually caught, weren’t they?" Austin asked grimly. "Escaping via warp drive isn’t foolproof..."
Jason paused; it was a grim thought he hadn’t fully entertained yet.
Dr. Arthur Lambert, standing nearby, chimed in. "The physics of that are straightforward. Warp drive motion is essentially linear, making trajectories easy to extrapolate.
Furthermore, pushing a vessel through folded space leaves behind thermal radiation and dark matter disturbances. Those traces don’t dissipate immediately, allowing a pursuer to track the wake."
"Warp transit also requires a phenomenal amount of energy," Arthur continued. "Only sustained nuclear fusion can keep the field stable. I suspect the Viridian spacecraft suffered catastrophic damage and eventually ran out of fuel.
They tried to force their way into our Solar System to recharge, and that’s when they were overtaken. With their engines heavily damaged, their infrared emissions were practically a beacon."
Noticing the tense expressions around him, Arthur offered a reassuring smile. "But we don’t have to worry about that. Deep Space might not look massive from the outside, but it houses the Precursor vault, which stores an incomprehensible amount of raw matter!"
"Even if they chase us to the edge of the galaxy, we won’t run dry! We have massive stockpiles of Helium-3. We have more than enough fuel to keep flying, don’t worry!"
Austin nodded, finally visibly relieved.
Jason sighed and shook his head. "We can hold out for a long time, but the enemy doesn’t know our operational limits. They might chase us relentlessly like bloodhounds, hoping to win a war of attrition."
"Especially once they realize we’ve taken the Gaia entity with us. They will definitely give chase."
"This escape is going to be a long-term marathon. We must remain on high alert!"
Seeing the slight dip in morale, Jason added, "I’ve already consulted with several department heads. We have countless research avenues ahead of us, and immense theoretical potential waiting to be unlocked. We just need the time to lay the groundwork—decades, perhaps even centuries."
"The integration of Elara has already compensated for the industrial bottlenecks caused by our small population. Once we locate a system with abundant water, we can expand her physical mass and exponentially scale our industrial output."
"We can even utilize her to jumpstart Level 3 nanotechnology research. At the very least, manufacturing advanced nanomaterials will become much easier."
"As long as we survive this wave, our future is incredibly bright!"
With that, the officers dispersed. Some returned to their stations, while others finally went to rest. If they didn’t sleep soon, half the crew would collapse from exhaustion before the ship’s hull ever did.
Elsewhere on the ship, Lieutenant Jerry led his fully armed squad through the battered corridors of Deep Space, meticulously scanning one damaged compartment after another.
The soldiers carried low-yield electromagnetic pulse emitters. If they detected any dormant nanite clusters, they would trigger a localized pulse to fry them.
These microscopic weapons, invisible to the naked eye, lacked heavy shielding and were highly susceptible to electrical surges, extreme heat, or harsh chemical solvents.
However, due to their sheer volume, achieving total sterilization was a nightmare. This was already their fifth sweep of the sector.
Jerry knew the stakes all too well. During the height of the engagement, he had watched a five-meter-thick, nuclear-hardened blast door dissolve into micron-sized dust in under ten seconds.
The soldiers stationed directly behind that bulkhead hadn’t even realized they were covered in the swarm.
They only recognized the horror a second before death, screaming as the vacuum of space claimed them and their bodies disintegrated into gray ash.
That desperate, half-mutilated cry for help gripped his heart like a vice every time he remembered it.
But fear or no fear, Jerry gritted his teeth and pressed on. He had been a commanding officer during the Gaia campaign and an incompetent one at that.
He remembered the blistering reprimand he had received from Security Minister Austin.
"Lieutenant Jerry, you know exactly how poorly you performed out there. Your inability to adapt under fire is a glaring sign of incompetence.
In the Gaia campaign, we held the technological high ground. We had a margin for error, which is why we survived. But what happens when we’re outgunned? I don’t want to think about the outcome. Just imagine our mothership burning and our families captured—nobody wants that ending."
"We are soldiers, and our job is to face the greatest fear in the universe: death! We do not retreat. We do not cower. We are made of iron, we follow orders, and we sacrifice if we must! Right now, you are all acting like useless cowards!"
Austin’s roar still echoed in Jerry’s mind. Tears pricked Jerry’s eyes as he remembered his fallen squadmates, and he clenched his fists.
We defended our home. We held the line.
We are not cowards. Never let fear win.
Jerry steadied his breathing. His squad finally finished sweeping the last quarantine bay. This room had originally been reinforced with advanced nitrogen-fixed plating, but now an entire wall was missing, and the deck was pockmarked with craters—the signature calling card of the nanite swarms.
"No active nanite signatures detected," a soldier reported.
Jerry exhaled sharply. "Fifth manual sweep complete. No errors."
The interior of Deep Space looked like a chewed-up carcass, missing massive chunks of infrastructure. It was agonizing to witness.
This was their home. The younger generation, raised to revere the ship, felt a potent mix of profound grief and boiling anger seeing it so battered.
"Alright, listen up," Jerry ordered, nodding in approval at their thoroughness. "Shift’s over. Everyone disperse and get some rest. We muster back here in ten hours. Dismissed!"
After watching his exhausted squad shuffle away, Jerry reviewed the latest casualty reports.
Structurally, the fleet had taken a beating, but personnel losses were surprisingly low. Infantry couldn’t exactly step outside and fire rifles at alien spaceships, so only a small fraction of the crew had perished in the hull breaches. Still, every name on that list highlighted the sheer cruelty of the war, and Jerry sighed heavily.
His stomach gave a sudden, loud rumble. He jogged down toward the intersection between the Precursor vault and the main residential ring, stepping into the military mess hall. The rich, savory aroma of hot food instantly revitalized him.
Several off-duty soldiers were already inside, quietly eating.
Having been stationed on Planet Digg for months, Jerry had survived entirely on cold military rations. His digestion was currently too wrecked for heavy meals, so he ordered a steaming bowl of hearty chicken noodle soup.
The thick, chewy noodles and tender chunks of chicken were submerged in a rich, golden broth, garnished with fresh herbs. It smelled like absolute heaven. The broth was savory, warm, and perfectly seasoned.
"Incredible!" he whispered.
Honestly, Jerry preferred this kind of simple, home-cooked Earth meal over anything else. He took a massive gulp of the warming broth, feeling his stomach settle.
"This is what living feels like!" he exclaimed, thoroughly enjoying himself. After eating paste for so long, a simple bowl of hot soup was enough to bring him pure joy.
Human nature is full of contradictions. Expectations fluctuate wildly depending on circumstance. When a person is destitute, a full meal is a miracle; when they are wealthy, a banquet feels ordinary.
When people are young and healthy, they rarely appreciate their vitality, treating it as a given. It is only when they fall ill, or find themselves bedridden, that they desperately long for the mundane privilege of living without pain.
Upon recovering, the simple act of breathing freely brings incredible happiness.
This same sentiment applied to the survival of their loved ones and the safety of their families.
The quiet stability that followed the apocalyptic battle brought a profound sense of gratitude to everyone aboard, from the frontline infantry to the civilian population to the senior scientists.
"You’re here! Oh my god, you’re alive!" a woman’s frantic voice shrieked from the entrance.
Jerry looked up to see his girlfriend, Sarah. "Yeah, just eating," he said quickly. "Hey, wait, you can’t come in here! This is a restricted military mess!"
The enthusiastic young woman completely ignored protocol, pushing through the doors carrying a tray of freshly baked pastries. Seeing Jerry whole and unharmed, she dropped the tray on the table and threw her arms around his neck, openly weeping.
"Restricted military mess? How did a civilian get past the checkpoint?" Jerry grumbled, noticing the teasing smirks of his nearby comrades, but the warmth of holding her made his throat tight.
He used to get annoyed by her dramatic tendencies, but right now, she was the best thing in the universe.
"The Minister authorized family visits!" Sarah sobbed, pointing at the food. "I thought you were still deployed on the perimeter... I thought you were already..."
She buried her face in his shoulder, crying softly. Across the hall, a few other civilians were weeping quietly, mourning empty chairs where their loved ones should have been.
Jerry held her close, silently savoring the warmth amidst the surrounding grief. "I’ve been running the tactical feeds in my head," he murmured with a sigh, "and it’s hopeless. There’s no comparison. If we hadn’t gotten lucky, none of us would have escaped."
"We don’t have deflector shields. Our railguns are too slow to dent their capital ships. Our only viable tactic was point-blank suicide runs with the drones."
"And that was just their vanguard. An automated hunting pack. Their main fleet hasn’t even engaged us. They might have faster-than-light missiles or warp-interdiction tech we can’t even comprehend..."
Sarah wiped her eyes, resting her hand over his. "Stop overthinking it. We’ve only been an interstellar civilization for a few years. How could we possibly go toe-to-toe with an empire that’s been doing this for millennia?"
An older soldier at the next table nodded in agreement. "She’s right, kid. We probably just survived a skirmish with a standard border patrol, and we had to burn almost everything we had just to run away.
Interstellar war comes down to raw industrial capability. Clever tactics might win you a local dogfight, but they don’t change the macroscopic reality of the board."
Jerry nodded slowly. "You’re both right. But the terrifying part is not knowing how many years we’ll be running."
"If they leave automated sentries around the local star clusters, we might not be able to stop and resupply for hundreds of light-years. I know we have stockpiles, but who knows if they’ll last?"
Sarah squeezed his hand, her gaze fierce and resolute. "As long as we’re together, we have a future. We’ll find a way."