Chapter 1043 — Leaving Something Behind

The anti-gravity generators stirred the mana curves that permeated the cosmic background radiation; a "dragon" vast as a mansion complex traversed the uppermost edge of the atmosphere, the heavy clouds reduced to a pale blur in the background, while an invisible mana storm brushed the edges of the protective barrier — at the boundary where the barrier field met cosmic space, rings of ripples, transparent to the point of near invisibility, spread outward like the concentric waves a stone raises when it falls into water.

"All parameters match, essentially, what the Creators calculated one million eight hundred seventy thousand years ago...

"The propulsion technology left behind by the Voyagers remains effective in the present era...

"Energy and propulsion structures are functioning well. After crossing the gravitational critical point, attempt entry into the Shadow Realm to verify whether latent propulsion is viable...

"Collect and compare starlight signals... The star charts left by the Voyagers are no longer usable. Attempt to recalibrate the star axis; set the destination provisionally as a solid planet near 'Ao'... Perhaps energy and matter can be replenished there... a suitable springboard."

Omega's thought-threads were active, pondering one question after another; he gathered new intelligence and drafted new plans. Distant starlight shone upon his alloy-forged shell, and those leaping gleams of starlight looked as beautiful as the planet below — new sensations welled up from his nervous system, and after a brief weighing, Omega classified them as "joy" and "anticipation."

He raised his head and looked toward a more distant direction. Beyond the visual-interference layer the Voyagers had set over the entire planet, those ancient satellites and space stations were emerging bit by bit from the darkness.

"Voyager relics observed... all in a state of silence. Omega... I feel a certain sorrow. This sorrow is not the same as what I felt when leaving Talonde."

Omega pondered, sustaining a dialogue with himself within his thought-threads. He sensed that his thinking efficiency had declined; many computational tasks now took longer to complete than before — though he had already cut off all command output to subordinate nodes, this drop in computing power was still plainly evident.

Yet he was not alarmed by it, for this was normal — the countless computational nodes buried deep in Talonde's earth were going offline one by one, and as he drew farther from the planet below, the computing power he could borrow from the surface shrank sharply as well. He was no longer the "Omega System" that spanned an entire continent; now he had only this vast body and the small number of servers mounted upon it to rely on, and their efficiency was plainly inferior to the ground-based nodes.

But Omega felt no regret over this — to travel far, one must make choices; an over-heavy "pack" can only hinder the journey.

And on the other hand, to travel in this present form of an "individual" was an experience he had once been unable to imagine. He did not know whether Omega as a network bound to the earth or Omega as a giant dragon flying through the cosmos was the "better" — but at least in this moment, he felt very... satisfied.

Several smaller craft caught up from behind; their silvery-white triangular hulls still glowed with a faint red light, the heat generated in passing through the atmosphere. These craft overtook Omega, who had already entered space, and then followed not far behind him like cubs trailing their mother.

These were Omega's "pack," the entire stock of belongings he had brought from his "homeland" on this journey. He did not know whether these things would suffice for a long and perilous voyage, but perhaps... life requires a little adventure.

He no longer remembered who had told him that saying — perhaps one of the Creators who had written the programs for the Omega System, perhaps one of the "guests" who had visited the continent of Talonde. In any case, Omega liked that saying very much.

Some fine metal fragments drifted past nearby; the edge of the protective barrier collided with those fragments, bursting into a few scattered sparks. This insignificant impact drew Omega's attention; he raised his head and gazed into the distance, and his high-precision optical sensors thereupon captured certain sights in the vastness of space far away —

He saw a mass of battered wreckage floating amid the dark, deep starfield. The wreckage looked utterly pitiful, as though some incomparably powerful and savage enemy had torn away more than half of it and crumpled what remained into a ball — it drifted in near-total disintegration, looking like a mass of steel on the verge of breaking apart, its original form almost impossible to make out.

But after scanning it carefully, Omega discovered that the internal skeleton of that wreckage was still well joined together, and the sealed structures in its midsection were intact as well. All the lights in its rear section had gone dark, but in the front section and a small portion of the middle, faint glimmers still circulated in the darkness.

And in the space near this wreckage, another, smaller and more twisted mass of debris floated alongside it — this one even harder to identify.

All of Omega's optical sensors turned in that direction, and for several seconds his "gaze" came to rest upon that wreckage.

He analyzed the characteristics of the wreckage, and within a very brief unit of time he felt new, complex emotions surging up from his nervous system — yet this time, he could not determine which category this emotion belonged to. It was not joy, nor sorrow, nor loss, nor even anticipation; it merely vibrated intensely through all his nervous systems and auxiliary computing units, as though carrying a scorching heat that seared every thought-thread.

And amid this intense, hard-to-analyze tide of emotion, Omega pondered a single question: what should he do?

"My service has ended..." Omega said to his thought-thread Sixteen using thought-thread Fourteen. "I need not carry out orders from the Creators — nor did they leave me any preset instructions."

"Yes, I need not carry out the instructions the Creators left behind," thought-thread Sixteen agreed. "So I should do what I myself wish to do."

Omega, his service ended and having gained a "heart," resolved this small confusion in less than a thousandth of a second — compared with "the meaning of life," how to take the next step was far too simple a question.

He flew straight toward that wreckage.

...

In the control hall of the Talonde, dim light illuminated the ancient control seats, and in the interplay of light and shadow three somewhat bored figures were revealed.

The hall was quiet; the alarm lights had been forcibly shut off, and only the occasional hum or beep from some unknown source broke the silence.

"Where did we get to in that word-chain game just now?" Bayang'er suddenly broke the silence. "I remember it was 'blizzard' or 'high-altitude cyclone'..."

"Whichever it was, I'm out," An Qian shook his head. "Word-chain games are even more boring than I imagined... and you always slip in technical terms only a mechanic would understand."

"Fine," Bayang'er shrugged, then glanced at the dimly lit hall. "Honestly, I almost miss the sound of the alarm system..."

An Qian placed his hand on the control seat before him. "Then shall I turn it on? It's not broken yet."

"Stop! Don't! I was joking! It was just a figure of speech!" Bayang'er stopped him without hesitation. "Have you considered what we'd do if it couldn't be turned off again? This system can't take any more abuse!"

Hragor listened to the commotion beside him and turned his head slightly to glance at Bayang'er. "How much longer can our air last?"