Chapter 130: Stardust Returns Home |
The metal floor of the workshop suddenly rippled with blue light, resonating with the glow from the mechanical skeleton's chest cavity. I looked down to see my shadow twisting and distorting on the ground, those flowing light patterns climbing up my pants legs from my shoe soles, leaving a faint cool sensation on my skin. The old scar on the mechanic's wrist suddenly lit up, connecting with the skeleton's light trails in a straight line. The scar left by surgery twenty years ago was visibly fading at a rapid pace.
"Bio-metal is performing reverse repair," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion as he looked at the new chip in his palm. "This isn't just flight logs—it's the genetic encoding sequence he left behind." The metal wing panels behind the skeleton fully extended, star map projections covering the entire night sky. The light points of the Orion Arm began flashing urgently, as if sending precise navigation signals. The silver light flying from the distance grew closer, and I finally recognized the outline of a small spacecraft, its streamlined hull shimmering with mother-of-pearl luster under the moonlight.
When the spacecraft hovered above the workshop, three energy pillars extended from its bottom, landing steadily on the ground to form a triangular support. The moment the cabin door slid open silently, a cold wind carrying the scent of stardust swept over us. The interior was empty, with only a worn flight helmet placed on the pilot's seat, its visor reflecting the blue light from outside. The mechanical skeleton strode toward the spacecraft, its metal joints emitting smooth, light sounds as it moved, completely free of the rusty stiffness from before.
"It's automatically docking," the mechanic said as he quickly followed, inserting the new chip into the spacecraft's control console interface. The screen instantly lit up, showing the complete three-dimensional model of Stardust rotating in blue light. The previously blurred subspace corridor data was rapidly being completed. I noticed the timestamp at the edge of the model—from the departure date twenty years ago to today, each interstellar coordinate had small annotations beside it. The final entry showed "Gravity parameters corrected, estimated return time 21:00," matching the wall clock's time exactly.
The skeleton's chest cavity suddenly opened, and the crystal vial slowly rose, hovering above the spacecraft's energy core. When the two made contact, the entire spacecraft shook violently, its surface revealing fluorescent patterns identical to the skeleton's. The mechanic's mechanical arm lifted uncontrollably, blue light flowing from his fingertips to form a circuit with the control console. He let out a suppressed groan from his throat as the patterns on his half-metal face began rearranging, eventually perfectly matching the spacecraft's star map.
"Genetic synchronization complete," an electronic synthesized voice suddenly sounded within the cabin—it was actually the voice of that young pilot from twenty years ago. "Initiating memory transfer program. Recipient: Lin Mo." The mechanic's body tensed violently, his pupils reflecting rapidly flowing data streams. Twenty years of memory fragments exploded in his mind—phone ringing on the thunderstorm night, military forcibly requisitioning documents, his younger brother's final encrypted message... Those images sealed away by pain now appeared as clear as yesterday.
I supported the staggering mechanic, seeing pale blue energy fluid seeping from the corners of his eyes. The spacecraft's holographic projection suddenly switched, displaying the true footage from the night of Stardust's accident: not the thunderstorm crash reported by the military, but a black warship emerging from subspace, laser beams striking Stardust's left wing. The young pilot activated emergency procedures before the explosion, separating core components from consciousness data, intentionally crashing the main ship into an asteroid belt to create the illusion of destruction.
"It's the Obsidian Legion," the mechanic gritted out the name, memory transfer causing veins to bulge on his forehead. "They've been hunting holders of subspace technology all along. My brother's jump experiment was never an accident—it was a deal between the military and the Legion, trading Stardust's coordinates for new weapon development rights." The control console suddenly displayed encrypted communication records, high-ranking military officials' conversations painfully clear: "Lin Chen must disappear. Subspace technology absolutely cannot fall into civilian hands."
The spacecraft's alarm suddenly blared sharply, a red warning flashing on the screen: "High energy reaction detected. Three unidentified aircraft approaching rapidly." Three black shadows flashed across the night sky outside the window—miniature versions of the black warship from the holographic projection. The mechanical skeleton suddenly turned around, energy cannons on its metal wing panels beginning to charge. The crystal vial's light reached its peak in rapid flashes.
When the first black ship dove down, the mechanical skeleton's energy cannon had already fired. A blue beam accurately hit the enemy ship's engine, twisted metal fragments scattering amid explosive flames. But more black ships surged from behind the clouds, laser beams raining down on the workshop like a storm, energy shields fluctuating violently under impact. The Mechanic's mechanical arm suddenly transformed, ejecting a built-in particle rifle that precisely shot through the cockpit of a black ship skimming low.
"Activate Stardust resonance!" he shouted at the control console while establishing a consciousness connection with the main skeleton. All activated mechanical units suddenly extended wing panels, star map projections forming a massive energy network in the air. The distant main Stardust ship began accelerating, its previously blurred outline becoming clear. The artillery batteries on both sides of the hull were charging, subspace engine lights illuminating the entire night sky.
The black ship fleet suddenly fell into chaos, their navigation systems completely disabled by the Stardust resonance. Some crashed into each other, others spiraled uncontrollably toward the ground. The mechanic seized the opportunity to pilot the spacecraft upward, forming tactical formation with the main ship. Watching the constantly updating destruction data on the screen, I suddenly understood that this twenty-year wait wasn't just to welcome the returning ship—it was preparation for a counterattack to reveal the truth.
When the last black ship disintegrated under Stardust's cannon bombardment, the sky began to lighten with dawn's early glow. The mechanic's mechanical arm slowly returned to its original form, the patterns on his half-metal face gradually fading, leaving only a faint blue stardust mark between his eyebrows. The spacecraft's control console ejected a complete evidence file—from military transaction records to Obsidian Legion weapon parameters, every page bearing timestamps and encrypted signatures.
"It's time to end this," he said, sending the file to the Star Alliance's public channel before turning to look out the viewport at the main ship. Stardust's cabin door opened, a light ladder descending from the sky. The mechanical skeleton slowly ascended along the light ladder, merging into the main ship's energy core. The crystal vial flashed one last time, projecting the young pilot's smiling face before dissolving into particles of light that dissipated in the air.
When the spacecraft landed in the workshop, the wall clock struck six in the morning. The mechanic removed the old watch from his wrist. Inside the watch cover was a yellowed photograph—two youths standing before the first Stardust model, smiling with teeth showing. He placed the photo in the spacecraft control console's storage compartment, arranging it side by side with the flight helmet before turning to shut off the workshop's main power.
The moment the blue light faded, the metal floor regained its cold texture. Only the lingering scent of stardust in the air proved that last night's extraordinary encounter wasn't an illusion. Distant police sirens approached as Star Alliance patrol ships drew near. The mechanic looked up at the brightening sky—the main ship had already turned into a silver light disappearing into the morning glow, leaving only faint energy ripples that seemed to say, "This time, it's really goodbye."
He turned to lock the workshop door, the sound of the key turning in the lock unusually clear. Twenty years of obsession had finally found resolution. The hydraulic pipes of his mechanical arm no longer leaked steam, the temperature of his flesh hand gradually returning to normal. I watched him walk toward the street bathed in morning light, his back no longer hunched, his steps firm and light as if he had shed a thousand-pound burden.
The wall clock's hands steadily moved toward seven o'clock. Sunlight streamed through the workshop windows, casting warm patches of light on the floor. Those flowing light patterns had completely disappeared, leaving only faint star map imprints on the metal walls like hidden medals, bearing witness to this cross-temporal return and redemption. I knew that the story of Stardust had ended, but a new chapter was quietly beginning in the morning light.