Chapter 135: Urgent Hum |
The energy towers of the starport suddenly emitted a series of urgent hums, clearer than usual. Lin Mo looked up just in time to see a new branch light up on the holographic star map's "Stardust Starway," like a silver stream merging into the main artery. The investigator's projection followed closely, an unfamiliar flag floating in the command center behind her—indigo with three overlapping star crystals embroidered on it. "Residents of the barren star system sent a signal," she said. "They're offering the location of a star crystal vein in exchange for access to the starway. They claim their children's textbooks have long depicted the auroras of Chenxing."
A scrap-collecting robot suddenly burst through the hatch, its collection probe's hook carrying a translucent crystal with a frozen purple flower inside. "Found it at an abandoned outpost in the barren star system!" Its optical lens flickered excitedly as its mechanical arm carefully cradled the crystal. "Analysis confirms it's a 'Stardust Flower' from thirty years ago—it only blooms near star crystal veins. Lin Chen's logs sketched its roots resembling star trails." Frost on the crystal's surface melted under the energy lights, revealing tiny words carved into the stem: "A specimen for my brother. When the starway opens, take it to see the crystals of the Zell system."
Lin Mo's mechanical arm gently brushed the crystal, and his star crystal badge suddenly glowed blue. A video automatically played on the holographic screen—Lin Chen crouching beside a Stardust Flower, his protective suit dusted with star crystal ore powder like scattered starlight. "Brother, look—its roots follow the star trails, as if the plant knows its way. Once our starway is complete, maybe we can make it bloom across star systems, so every planet knows it's not alone." The boy in the recording suddenly turned, his smile shimmering in the flower's faint glow. "Oh, the robot found another energy block today—said it’ll power the starway's signal lights."
When the investigator pulled up a live feed of the barren star system, Lin Mo was placing the Stardust Flower crystal into a climate-controlled case. The footage showed residents in coarse protective suits prying open frozen soil with pickaxes to reveal glimmering star crystal veins beneath. Children hoisted wooden boards covered in star charts, dancing an odd jig beside the ore. "They call it the 'Star-Guiding Dance,' passed down by elders—they believe it summons interstellar starways," the investigator said, amused. "An old man in leg wraps insisted on gifting you his mining hammer, saying the tool that cracked frozen earth should also see the stars beyond."
As the collection probe traversed subspace again, the robot suddenly transferred piloting to the auxiliary AI. Clutching a tin box, it shuffled to Lin Mo’s side. Inside lay an assortment of fragments: a rusted wrench, a chipped energy block, polished star crystal shards—all items mentioned in Lin Chen’s logs. "It calls these 'starway components,'" the AI interjected, its first attempt at mimicking human inflection. "The robot scavenged the Obsidian Legion's fortress ruins for three months, determined to gather everything Lin Chen left behind—like piecing together an unfinished star chart."
In Chenxing’s Aurora Valley, a newly erected signal tower underwent calibration. Crystal artisans from the Zell system crouched along the valley walls, embedding star crystal fragments into rock crevices. Refracted auroras formed Lin Chen’s silhouette in midair. "The children want every traveler to know this starway was built by two," the lead artisan murmured, his palm's grooves aligning with the crystal's veins. "We buried a vial of Zell’s starlight sand beneath the tower—to keep your badge company, like two star systems’ light forever entwined."
During the return voyage, Lin Mo received the barren star system’s first shipment—a hold full of star crystal-carved miniature starships, each hull engraved with "Stardust." As the robot labeled them, it discovered a note tucked inside one cockpit, written in Stardust Flower sap: "My son always asked if Daddy’s star crystals would turn into light. Now he knows—these lights carry our ships toward the auroras."
Crowds now packed the starport memorial’s observation deck daily. One white-haired elder lingered with a magnifier, studying the Aurora Valley feed. He claimed to be an old Stardust crewmate who recognized Lin Chen’s tiny mark on the observation panel’s casing—a lopsided smile hidden near the star crystal interface. "That boy always said he’d carve smiles on every star system’s observatory," the old man recalled. "So lonely astronauts would see it and hear, 'Don’t be afraid.'"
The energy towers’ hum softened abruptly. Lin Mo looked up to see the Stardust Starway on the holographic map now resembled a thriving tree—its main artery a connected galaxy of lights, branch trails like cascading leaves brushing once-lightless planets. The robot soared past with the collection probe, its cockpit now housing a transparent pod where a sprouting Stardust Flower’s fuzz trembled in energy currents, as if growing to the star trails’ rhythm.
He turned to the navigation console, marking coordinates for a newfound asteroid. Soon, a fresh light would ignite there—like a newly opened eye within the Stardust Starway’s luminous web, finding its own beam. And in Chenxing’s distant Aurora Valley, two interlocked badges pulsed steadily, transforming star crystal-kept yearnings into never-dimming beacons.