Gloria, hurry and give me a hug! [Double chapter, please subscribe!]
Gezhi Starfield, somewhere in interstellar space.
The Crossing Worlds interstellar train rumbled through the turbulent nebula. To stabilize the vessel, each carriage sporadically expelled howling jets of compressed steam, reminiscent of an old-fashioned steam locomotive.
At the rear of every carriage hung a small unmanned combat craft, maxing out the security measures.
Beyond that, the train was shrouded in a matrix of defensive formations, including an impenetrable information firewall. As long as positional data remained hidden and the train avoided docking with major commercial planets, the odds of suffering an attack in the vast cosmos were virtually zero.
On this day.
The train received a mysterious email.
The message was immediately routed to the Information Office for isolated antivirus scanning, then manually verified by staff, and only then forwarded to the captain’s quarters.
Inside the Information Office, two engineers set down their coffees and copies of "Federation of Free Stars," turning to scrutinize the email’s safety.
“The Justice Hunters Guild—where have I heard that before?”
“That’s the adventurers who got wrecked by the Uncrowned Fleet but somehow advanced into the New Generation’s top one hundred thousand. They’re somewhat known along the Dawn Route.”
“So, their team’s in ruins and now they need to hire a beastmaster?”
“Maybe they’ll swing by Zu’an for some starbeasts to retrofit their ship.”
“Little Sirius folk aren’t that common—even with plenty of cash, they’re hard to buy. But there are lots of genius beastmasters out there.”
“I heard they nabbed a couple of slaves the other day—the captain’s been awfully secretive. Usually, that means they’re prodigies.”
“Virus scan came up clean.”
“The attachment’s tiny—lots of text, but nowhere near enough data for a minimum viable virus.”
“Even if there’s rogue code in the text, the system would spot and kill it in a flash.”
“All right, forward it to the captain!”
Captain’s quarters.
A thin, bespectacled, pallid middle-aged man—with a sickly complexion—opened the message on his holographic screen.
“Greetings, Captain Sielva… garbled text… I am Kundi Augs, captain of the Justice Hunters Guild. Though we suffered a serious blow on Scion Star… garbled text… our group will rise again. We have two hundred thousand spirit stones in our guild association bank account. At present, our ship is trapped by a beast… garbled text… tide in the Witch Star System and cannot escape. We earnestly request a shuttle to deliver us a genius beastmaster. Should they help us through this crisis, we will… garbled text… pay one hundred thousand spirit stones…”
The message was quite long. Despite the garbled segments—clearly a transmission issue—reading wasn’t a problem.
The antivirus program was sorting through the distributed gibberish, but with astronomical permutations, it would take time.
For the sake of one hundred thousand spirit stones, Sielva gritted his teeth and read on, his expression growing ever more grave, finally turning to ire.
He deleted the email at once, called the Information Office, and berated the officers:
“I saw you reading magazines on duty… This is such an obvious scam! Next time, filter it out immediately!”
“Yes, Captain!”
With the video feed cut, tranquility returned to the Crossing Worlds, as though nothing had happened.
Yet, the attachment had already cloned itself into the captain’s control system, quickly hiding without executing.
Such a small program alone couldn’t seize control of the train’s flight system or the combat craft subsystems.
Only with inside-outside coordination from the Fly Drone aboard the Leonin could they capture the ship.
…
Aboard the Leonin.
Lu Chen finally pinpointed the Crossing Worlds’ location.
It was in the Gezhi Starfield.
The good news: Gezhi Starfield lay along a main route toward the Zu’an planetary belt.
The bad news: for the Leonin to reach Gezhi Starfield would take three days.
And the Crossing Worlds was even faster—catching up was nearly impossible.
That’s why he hadn’t immediately hacked the whole ship.
The distance meant hours of command lag. Even if he hacked in, controlling the situation would be difficult, and he risked forcing the Crossing Worlds to shut down systems and evacuate all carriages.
The Leonin had to chase them down!
There were only two things faster than a warp engine:
First, interstellar gates—dedicated passages built in the Abyss, akin to teleportation arrays. Unfortunately, only the Empire had such advanced tech, and their deployment in the Pangu Corridor was minimal.
Second, higher-grade warp engines, or… hitching a ride on an interstellar bus.
The interstellar bus was a commercial model devised by the Uncrowned Nation, imitating the colossal interstellar liners.
The giant liners specialized in synchronized adventuring.
The interstellar bus specialized in fast-forwarding the adventure.
Lu Chen never liked fast-forwarding through an adventure, but this was a special case.
His lofty sense of morality wouldn’t let him pass up such a fat prize as the Crossing Worlds!
Golia was pained by the expense.
“You’re really taking the bus? You could fly there yourself for fifty spirit stones’ worth of spirit fuel, but the bus starts at five hundred.”
Lu Chen, his expression solemn and righteous, replied, “I am sworn enemy of slavers. Never mind five hundred spirit stones—even five thousand, I will pursue the Crossing Worlds!”
Ellie’s face flushed, her icy blue eyes dazed, feeling her captain’s love.
Lu Chen promptly logged into the Uncrowned Nation’s bus route map.
The nearest interstellar bus stop, with a bus arriving soon, was a two-hour flight away:
Tuta Star.
A barren world above, but teeming with all kinds of insectoids below—a waystation for the stars.
Here, it was a paradise for insectoids.
But getting countless varieties of bugfolk to live together was no easy feat.
Even in the New Federation, different humanoid races rarely cohabited one planet, tending toward their own tribal worlds.
In a sense, Tuta Star was the Uncrowned Nation’s idealistic experiment in multicultural integration.
Two hours later, the Leonin arrived at Tuta Star.
There was only one bus dock on the planet’s surface.
The dock was vast, though ships were few.
The Leonin would have to wait two and a half hours.
The dock’s holographic tourist guides showcased local insectoid specialties, sandworm tourism, and the bizarre insect-women of the bugfolk brothels.
Lu Chen was reminded of a certain locust queen…
He had barely landed when the ship and his identity were recognized. Soon, a bevy of insect-women guides swarmed around him.
“Honored Lu Chen, as a recipient of the Uncrowned Nation’s Idealist Medal, you’re entitled to a twenty percent discount on the interstellar bus and half-price on any planetary products. We have sandworm fishing, adorable insect-women, any flavor you prefer!”
Lu Chen glanced over—there were even facehugger girls.
He mused that if facehuggers didn’t eat people, it might actually be quite a thrill.
Ellie’s eyes widened at the array of insect-women, unable to imagine such a scene.
Golia teased Lu Chen from the side: “How about a scorpion girl? He loves scorpion girls.”
Guide: “We have those, absolutely!”
Lu Chen shot Golia a look, then asked the guide, “Any giant caterpillars?”
Guide: “Of course! I can arrange a room for you right now.”
Lu Chen was speechless. “I need caterpillars for bait—to fish sandworms in the desert!”
The guide paused, then finally understood. “Oh… yes, we have those too.”
So it went…
Clutching his nuclear-powered fishing rod, Lu Chen paid ten spirit stones to rent a sand skiff and spent an unremarkable two and a half hours drifting over the desert, soft as the sea.
That lonely figure on the sand-skiff evoked scenes from Wong Kar-wai’s "Ashes of Time."
Two and a half hours later.
Lu Chen failed to catch a sandworm, but was awarded the Desert Air Force Medal and received a Desert Eagle sandblasting toy pistol as a consolation prize.
It wasn’t much, but at least he didn’t leave empty-handed.
The interstellar bus arrived at Tuta Star.
Its colossal hull blotted out the sky—a single ship exuding the might of a thousand-strong fleet.
Lu Chen had already spent four hundred spirit stones on a ticket at the twenty percent discount.
The destination: a waystation one day’s journey ahead of the Crossing Worlds’ current route.
The interstellar bus would reach it in half a day.
The Leonin need only lie in wait.
After ticket check, the Leonin slowly drove into a container atop the bus.
Once secured, the container was sealed.
With a long, distant horn, the interstellar bus set off again, accelerating to the main route, then leaping into warp at level eighty.
Yet the Dawn Route was notoriously rough. For safety, the bus alternated between full speed and warp, so Lu Chen would need half a day to reach his destination.
The bus even featured a small entertainment and commercial complex.
The bus captain sent Lu Chen a video message, congratulating him on his Idealist Medal, assuring him his identity would be kept private, and inviting him to relax at the casino…
“Most passengers are headed to the Zu’an Megabeast Park to capture runaway starbeasts, Captain Lu, aren’t you interested?”
“My ship’s only level thirty—chasing starbeasts is out of my league. I’m just hitching a ride, will wander nearby for a bit.”
To avoid complications, Lu Chen declined the bus captain’s invitation and stayed aboard the Leonin.
He took a nap.
Half a day later.
The Leonin disembarked at the waystation.
Cavern Star.
Yet another planet renowned for cave expeditions…
One had to admit, the Uncrowned Nation had quite the entrepreneurial spirit.
This time, Lu Chen had no mind for sightseeing.
Upon landing, he immediately located the Crossing Worlds.
He set his course to intercept.
…
Half a day later.
The Leonin hid in a passing storm, finally awaiting the Crossing Worlds.
Lu Chen switched to manual flight.
Engaged full-ship stealth.
Then released the fly drone, sending it to approach the Crossing Worlds.
This time, having hacked the ship in advance via email, the fly drone didn’t need to physically enter to establish a cooperative bridge for outside-inside hacking—it could quickly breach the ship’s systems.
Once inside, Lu Chen discreetly masked the Leonin’s ship signal.
He refrained from taking control immediately, instead inspecting the intricate layout of the train’s flight control systems.
Soon, he discovered that the big company’s security, especially its anti-hacker protocols, was airtight.
Each of the Crossing Worlds’ thirty-six carriages had its own independent engine and flight control system.
Every carriage had three guards and an unmanned combat craft. In danger, they’d automatically detach, with the drone craft holding off pursuers.
Each carriage had live surveillance, uploading one-way to the captain’s office.
Commands from the captain’s quarters, under normal circumstances, were transmitted as simple optical codes, incapable of carrying viruses.
In emergencies, orders could be issued by voice!
In other words, Wolffang Corporation cared more about the cargo in each carriage than about the captain or the train itself.
Even if Lu Chen seized the train, the captain could immediately cut the flight control, letting each carriage flee independently.
And Lu Chen’s goal wasn’t just Black Dragon’s two friends, but the entire train and all its slaves.
Ellie patiently sifted through every regulation file downloaded from the ship.
She quickly found the crucial detail:
“There are three scenarios where each carriage detaches and flees:
First, an external attack.
Second, an internal attack—such as mutiny, the flight control system being hacked to harm crew with the drone craft, or deviating from the planned route.
Third, the captain personally orders detachment.
Once the train reaches its destination and is deemed secure, the captain personally returns to the captain’s quarters and manually throws the switch to lock all carriages.”
Lu Chen pondered and quickly formulated a detailed plan.
“Looks like we’ll need a physical breach.”
Golia scoffed, “Don’t flatter yourself. If you’re physically breaking in, that’s called blowing it up, not hacking.”
Lu Chen grinned, spreading his ten fingers wide. “Not just me hacking in, but you too! Five fingers spread—give me a hug.”
“Huh?”
…
Ten minutes later.
The Crossing Worlds interstellar train flew silently, lights blazing.
In the captain’s quarters.
Captain Sielva sipped his coffee, watching the news on his holographic screen.
Suddenly!
Across from his desk, the live surveillance feeds flickered.
The seventh carriage’s monitor went black.
An automatic alert was sent to the captain.
Sielva, hearing the warning, looked up. The blacked-out surveillance was of the two humanoids captured a few days before!
He immediately contacted Information Office.
“What’s going on with Carriage Seven?”
“Captain, uplink signal was unexpectedly cut. We’re investigating.”
He quickly switched to the bridge.
“Are we under attack?”
“Captain, radar reports nothing unusual.”
“Don’t miss even a single fly!”
“Captain, this is deep space—the odds of encountering a lifeform are lower than winning the lottery.”
“Don’t get complacent—stay sharp!”
“Yes, Captain!”
Sielva patched back to Information Office.
“Any progress?”
“Both hardware and spirit circuits shorted and burned. We’ll need to check it manually.”
“Could it be related to the humanoid prisoners?”
“Unless all three guards mutinied, impossible. If they had, the carriage would’ve detached, and the drone would have destroyed it automatically.”
“Understood. Send a guard and an engineer to Carriage Seven for repairs.”
“Yes, Captain!”
Soon, the main compartment’s hatch opened.
A guard in fitted battle armor and an engineer in a space suit exited the main car.
They arrived at Carriage Seven, opened the hatch, and entered.
Unbeknownst to them, a fly slipped inside…
Within Carriage Seven, the guard and engineer found both the guards and humanoid slaves as usual—it was indeed a circuit issue.
They immediately reported to the captain via wrist-screen.
“Carriage Seven is normal. Definitely a circuit problem.”
Sielva breathed a sigh of relief.
“Good, begin repairs at once.”
The engineer opened the small signal relay station in the ceiling to begin fixing the lines, hoping to restore the surveillance feed.
But!
The instant he opened the relay and checked the wires—
The power circuits for the entire train went dark.
Lighting systems failed.
Radar systems crashed.
Flight control was lost.
As if all this chaos had been triggered simply by the engineer’s repairs…
(End of chapter)