The Hope streaked through the silent void of deep space.
Twelve days later, she executed a precision intercept with Jupiter.
Witnessing that gas giant for the first time, especially at such close proximity, was a profound shock to the senses. Every swirling atmospheric current within its mass possessed enough raw power to extinguish Earth entirely. Even the legendary Great Red Spot left Luna mesmerized, unable to resist capturing its image—though she no longer had a social circle to share them with.
Scanning the celestial bodies orbiting Jupiter, a thought suddenly struck Luna.
"Ayla, halt our momentum. Deploy reconnaissance drones to Europa."
Europa was a moon of ice, its entire surface entombed under a frozen crust of immense thickness.
Scientists on Earth had long theorized that a liquid ocean surged beneath those ice layers. Experience had taught humanity that wherever there is water, there is likely life. To Luna, the chance that Europa harbored living organisms was high.
Her objectives for the deployment were clear:
1. Harvest extraterrestrial biological samples.
2. Replenish the ship's critical reservoirs with liquid water.
The ship's original provisions had vanished long ago. Luna was now subsisting entirely on Ayla's laboratory creations: synthesized egg whites, synthesized fats, synthesized carbohydrates, and synthesized sugar. It was a life sustained by pure technology and the raw will to survive.
A vast influx of liquid water would revitalize the water recycling systems and finally allow her to utilize the 18% agricultural space. Luna remembered she still carried a cache of seeds.
The Hope settled into a stable orbit around Europa.
Thirty drones launched from the hangar, descending onto the moon's surface. Through their optical sensors, Luna gazed upon the landscape of Europa—a desolate, pristine world of endless snow.
The drones commenced drilling. After piercing 57 kilometers into the crust, they finally breached the ice, plunging into a hidden watery abyss. Electromagnetic scans revealed the total depth of ice and water to be 113 kilometers—ten times deeper than the most profound oceanic trenches on Earth.
The drones began siphoning massive quantities of water, returning to the ship via tethers lowered from the hull. The entire operation spanned only ten days. On the vast scale of cosmic time, it was a mere blink of an eye.
Upon analyzing the retrieved samples, Ayla's anime-style avatar flashed an expression of genuine surprise.
"Luna, it seems life is indeed a universal constant."
"I have detected traces of microorganisms in the Europan water. These specimens are entirely absent from my existing database."
A high-resolution image flickered onto the screen. It was a microorganism resembling a paramecium, yet it was ten times the size of its terrestrial counterparts. This was already a remarkably complex life form. Given several hundred million years of stability, Europa might have eventually birthed intelligent life.
Ten hours later, 5,000 tons of water had been secured. It was enough.
"Ayla, initiate the cultivation area. It's time to plant the seeds."
Luna's command met with an unsettling silence.
A moment later, Ayla reappeared, her expression grim. The primary display projected a terrifying image: the Sun had suddenly flared with an unnatural, blinding intensity.
Luna knew instantly. Those were the final fragments of Earth plummeting into the solar furnace.
A cataclysmic solar storm erupted, surging almost instantly to X-class. The data on the screen bypassed X1, skyrocketed to X122, and continued its relentless climb. Under specialized energy-monitoring lenses, the once-dim Sun turned a violent orange, hemorrhaging terrifying energy that diffused into the surrounding vacuum.
In a staggering ten seconds, this solar eruption released energy equivalent to the simultaneous detonation of 150 billion hydrogen bombs. It was unprecedented. The storm swept through the system like a cosmic scythe; anything caught in its wake, save for the planets themselves, would be mercilessly erased.
"Full speed ahead, Ayla!"
"Acknowledged, Luna!"
The only saving grace was that the primary matter velocity of this invisible wave was clocked at 679 km/s.
...
Once the Hope locked into flight mode, Luna returned to the cryosleep chamber.
This was a second-generation cryosleep chamber, boasting significantly enhanced safety protocols. She no longer even required the ingestion of anti-freezing agents.
She drifted into a deep sleep. An eternal, profound slumber. This journey would be far longer than the last—so long that she could not fathom when she might eventually awaken.
Ayla assumed total autonomy over the ship, dedicating her entire processing lattice to calculating cutting-edge technological advancements. Using Jupiter's massive gravity for a gravitational assist, the ship's velocity surged from 758.2 km/s to 815 km/s.
Aside from enduring a barrage of radiation, the Hope successfully outpaced the lethal core of the solar storm.
...
Eighty-eight days later, the Hope crossed into the orbit of Pluto, 41 AU away from the Sun.
This dwarf planet, once celebrated as the ninth planet of the Solar System, carried the weight of countless human stories regarding literature and celestial discovery. At its furthest reach, Pluto could wander 49 AU into the obsidian void.
It stood as a silent boundary marker within the Kuiper Belt; beyond its vigil lay only the Oort cloud. The majority of the Solar System's matter resided here, within the Kuiper Belt. Further out, there was only the boundless, desolate expanse of the deep universe.
Pluto was not situated along their current trajectory, and Ayla did not divert resources to observe it.
Instead, Ayla manipulated the ship's massive external camera—a 10-meter diameter optical titan—to capture a final image of the system they were leaving behind. The resulting photograph was dominated by a singular, tiny, yet extraordinarily brilliant pinprick of light.
The Sun remained in a state of violent upheaval.
Venus, Mars, the asteroid belt, Jupiter, and Saturn had all been engulfed by the merciless surge of energy.
It remained a mystery whether the automated machines stationed within the asteroid belt could survive such a brutal onslaught.
...
Another 773 days elapsed.
After enduring six days of relentless heliospheric shockwaves, the Hope finally breached the charged particle currents of the heliosphere.
They were, at long last, safe.
In this void, Ayla intercepted a faint signal.
She oriented the long-range telescope toward the source and, after exhaustive analysis, identified a minuscule black speck, utterly inconspicuous against the backdrop of deep space.
Data processing confirmed its identity: "Sounds of Earth."
The relic belonged to Voyager 1, a probe whose trajectory also mirrored their own toward Proxima Centauri.
This pioneer, humanity's furthest-reaching emissary, was finally overtaken by the Hope today—168 years after its departure from Earth.
The year was now 2145 A.D.
The probe's nuclear batteries had long since depleted their energy. Ayla successfully intercepted and secured the craft.
It was a vessel that carried humanity's ancient fantasies regarding the cosmos.
On Earth, people once fretted over the possibility of Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 being intercepted by a hostile Civilization, leading them back to the human home world.
Such anxieties were entirely misplaced. Voyager would not truly exit the boundaries of the Solar System until approximately 42145 A.D.—another 40,000 years into the future.
Furthermore, any advanced Civilization capable of interstellar travel would have already detected the presence of Earth from light-years away. Voyager was merely a poetic finishing touch, a physical confirmation of the nature of the species that had once thrived on Earth.
Ayla performed precision modifications on the probe, installed a fresh nuclear battery, and relaunched it onto its original heading at 17 km/s.
It was revitalized.
Once again, every year, it would broadcast its message into the void.
Yet, this silent sentinel would never know that its voice was destined to fall upon no one.
By this time, they had reached a distance of 420 AU from the Sun.
But the true odyssey had only just begun.
...
9 years later.
The Hope crossed into the border regions of the Oort Cloud Core.
Known as the comet cloud, this was the legendary cradle of long-period comets. The region was saturated with water ice, methane, ethane, carbon monoxide, and hydrogen cyanide.
Ayla harvested several samples for scientific preservation.
...
Another 279 years drifted by. The Hope detached from the massive interior layers of the Oort Cloud Core, entering its 50,000 AU wide outer boundary.
...
288 years flashed past once more. The Hope completely exited the Oort Cloud. The surroundings dissolved into a state of absolute silence—a void of total obsidian.
Looking back at the Sun from this vantage point, the parent star had finally merged into the indistinct tapestry of the cosmic background.
Their travel time had reached 578 years. They were now approximately 100,000 AU from the Sun, or 1.58 light-years—the absolute limit of the Sun's gravitational influence.
The Hope had truly flown beyond the reach of the Solar System.
This moment marked humanity's definitive departure from its parent star.
...
86 years after departing the Solar System, and 664 years into her cosmic odyssey.
A blinding lance of energy suddenly tore through the void, broadsiding the Hope.
"Alert!"
"Alert!"
"Extraterrestrial signatures detected at 0.7 AU. The vessel has sustained a hostile strike from an alien Civilization."
The screaming crimson strobes of the emergency system tore Luna from her slumber.
"Whoop~ Whoop~ Whoop~"
Disoriented and heart-pounding, she scrambled out of the cryosleep chamber, her vision saturated by the rhythmic pulsing of the red alarms.
"Ayla, status report!"
Ayla's voice, unchanged by the passage of centuries, cut through the chaos.
"Luna, we are under active engagement by an alien Civilization."
"The enemy's weapon systems are overwhelming. Our alloy hull is liquefying under the thermal stress of their laser arrays."
Luna glanced at the timestamp in the corner of the display: 2806 A.D.
She had been adrift in the frozen silence of sleep for far longer than she realized.
She raced to the command deck, finding the white-haired Ayla standing at the primary console, her movements perfectly mimicking those of a combat pilot. It was a sophisticated 3D projection.
Luna's attention was instantly seized by the tactical feed on the main viewscreen.
A fleet of seven vessels loomed in the dark.
The flagship was an elegant, oval monolith, resembling a colossal football drifting through the abyss. Luminous crimson circuitry pulsed across its surface like a nervous system. Most striking were the countless white tendrils cascading from the hull like those of a deep-sea organism.
Each tendril stretched for tens of thousands of meters. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be composed of crystalline lattices—gigantic, lethal optical fibers.
Azure beams of coherent light lanced out from these filaments, reaching across the void toward them.
Another strike hammered the Hope, the entire frame groaning under the vibration.
"Can we return fire?"
She lunged toward the console. Even as the question left her lips, the grim reality set in: the Hope's original blueprints contained no provisions for offensive weaponry.
Theoretically, they were a sitting duck, restricted to passive evasion.
She could only hope that Ayla had utilized the long centuries to develop some form of defense...
The answer was a cold, mechanical silence.
Ayla tilted her head toward Luna. Though her features were delicate, her expression held the stern gravity of an Archon Commander, or a Kanmusu.
"Luna, we lack offensive capabilities. Our Civilization is technologically inferior to the aggressor."
"The enemy maintains a distance of 0.7 AU. The flagship is closing the intercept at a relative velocity of 625 km/s."
"I await your tactical directive."
The invaders were relentless and bold, clearly having calculated that the Hope possessed no fangs.
Even as they spoke, a fresh azure beam seared into the hull.
The Hope buckled violently. A muffled explosion rippled through one of the structural sections, venting debris into the vacuum.
"Execute an evasive burn, Ayla! Full thrust. Put as much distance between us and that fleet as possible!"
Luna's decision was instantaneous.
Their interceptor's speed was notably lower than their own. As long as the enemy was capped at 625 km/s, they still had the advantage of velocity.
The Hope adjusted her trajectory, her engines roaring to life.
The trailing ships struggled to match the acceleration, gradually receding into the darkness behind them.
Yet, they did not relent. The fleet maintained a pursuit, unleashing a relentless rain of fire. The vacuum was filled with a lethal lattice of azure light.
The lasers carried staggering thermal energy. Upon impact, they effortlessly bored through the Hope's outer plating. The hull was soon a tragic sight—uneven, scarred, and riddled with glowing, molten craters.
"Luna, we have suffered a hull breach."
The projection of Ayla flickered, her expression turning grim.
"Seal the cockpit immediately! Maintain internal pressure at all costs!"
They were trapped in a state of agonizing helplessness. Luna watched the radar screen with white-knuckled intensity, tracking the relative positions of the hostile warships.
Fortunately, as the gap widened, the incoming fire became easier for Ayla to predict and dodge.
This harrowing chase lasted for twenty-one grueling days.
The distance eventually stretched to 350 million kilometers. The alien vessels finally abandoned the pursuit, though they continued to broadcast sporadic, harassing fire across the void.
"I think we've lost them."
Luna finally exhaled, the exhaustion of three sleepless weeks crashing down on her.
The Hope was a battered wreck. A fifth of the hull had been carved away—a hollow, skeletal reminder of their vulnerability.
"We were naive to ignore weapons during the design phase. I assumed the sheer vastness of space would shield us... I never truly expected to stumble upon another Civilization."
Her perspective had shifted. She resolved to retrofit the Hope with heavy-duty main cannons at the first opportunity. They needed a means to strike back.
"Based on their engagement profile, this Civilization has mastered advanced laser-optics."
"Wait..."
A memory suddenly surfaced from the depths of her mind. Long ago, shortly after Earth's extinction, she had been struck by a similar beam in the asteroid belt. It had nearly ended her journey before it began.
Perhaps that laser had been a parting gift from this very Civilization.
They were currently adrift on the direct path between Earth and Proxima Centauri. A chilling thought crossed her mind: could these be the legendary Trisolarans?
"Ayla, run a probability analysis. What are the chances this hostile Civilization originates from Proxima Centauri?"
The answer to this question would change everything.
However, Ayla shook her head, her data-driven conclusion completely contradicting Luna's fears.
"2.38%. The probability is negligible. The enemy vessels lack significant velocity, and their offensive doctrine is limited almost exclusively to laser arrays. My analysis indicates their development sits at an entry-level Type 1—likely not even reaching Type 1.2 on the scale."
"A Civilization at this stage lacks the logistical and technological framework for interstellar transit spanning light-years. If they hailed from Proxima Centauri, there would be no strategic imperative for them to be here. Even if they had made the journey, they would certainly have deployed an elite, high-velocity fleet."
"Cross-referencing our current trajectory with the laser signature from 769 years ago confirms a direct overlap with the heading of the departing enemy warships."
"Final analysis: The home world of this Civilization likely resides within this very sector of deep space. Furthermore, their rate of advancement is remarkably stagnant; in over seven centuries, their status has only progressed by a mere 0.1."
Luna studied the obsidian void through the command monitors.
They were currently in the desolate vacuum between stars. Could a Civilization truly take root and flourish in such an empty expanse?
The biological discoveries on Europa had already established that life is a universal constant.
But if even a wasteland like this could foster a Type 1 civilization, the universe must be more crowded than humanity had ever dared to dream.
Despite her skepticism, she deferred to Ayla's superior processing.
"Whoop~ Whoop~"
The crimson strobes flared once more.
"Luna, additional hostile signatures detected on the forward-right flank..."
Luna's heart sank as the tactical overlay updated. It was another fleet, their silhouettes nearly identical to the previous aggressors, numbering more than ten combatants.
They didn't wait for a greeting. A barrage of high-energy beams arrived first.
Hundreds of white-hot lances of light poured down, washing over the ship and turning the exterior sensors into a blinding, static-filled glare.
"It's impossible for them to have overtaken us. The only logical conclusion is that they were already occupying this territory. We are still traversing their sovereign sector."
"Maintain course. Keep running."
It was clear this alien Civilization had no intention of allowing a trespasser to escape.
"Ayla, what is our current standing on the development scale?"
A cold, calculated strategy was beginning to take shape in Luna's mind.
This Civilization was pathologically xenophobic and inherently aggressive. They had opened fire the moment they detected her presence. Had those lasers been even marginally more powerful, she would have been incinerated in her sleep.
If they chose to treat her as an enemy, she would return the favor in kind.
"During the 664 years of your cryosleep, Luna, I never ceased our technological progression. We currently sit at Type 1.3."
"However, as we are a nomadic Civilization of one, we lack a comprehensive, large-scale industrial or military framework. Even against a lower-tier opponent, we do not currently possess a tactical advantage."
"My recommendation is to prioritize the construction of a combat fleet before initiating the exploitation, colonization, or eradication of lower-tier hostile Civilizations."
Ayla seemed to have anticipated Luna's darker turn; her holographic avatar had even donned a sleek suit of tactical armor.
Years ago, the mastery of controllable nuclear fusion had elevated them to the ranks of Type 1 civilizations. Progress had been slow thereafter because they were a civilization in exile, lacking the massive resource pools required to transform theoretical breakthroughs into physical might.
At this moment, their 1.3 rating was largely academic.
But since their theoretical level surpassed the enemy's, Luna made her move.
"Ayla, begin production of specialized probes. I want a full reconnaissance of their territorial borders, their technological base, and their biological profile."
"To conquer an enemy, we must first understand them."
The command was logged, and Ayla immediately diverted power to the fabrication bays to begin work on unmanned scout ships.
Luna christened this new class of reconnaissance vessel—Falcon!
Half a month later, after successfully breaking line-of-sight with the alien warships once again...
the first Falcon was completed. Ten meters long and shuttle-shaped, the craft was finished in a jet-black, light-absorbent coating. Twelve high-definition optical sensors were clustered at its prow like the eyes of a spider.
Its primary directive was absolute stealth.
This wasn't merely optical cloaking, but advanced signal masking designed to ensure that the enemy's electronic detection arrays could capture no trace of its passing.
Watching the Falcon vanish into the depths of space, Luna's expression turned grim.
This was her first step into an interstellar conflict—a war of Civilizations.
She had been left with no alternative. Perhaps some civilizations possessed a capacity for mercy, but such grace was usually reserved for those who had already knelt in submission.
This unknown Civilization had marked her for death. Now, it was a simple matter of survival.
...
The Falcon streaked through the starlight like a phantom.
Once its initial burn reached a velocity of 482 km/s, it jettisoned its primary booster stage. It transitioned to silent, compressed gas thrusters for its final trajectory adjustments.
The target coordinates lay 417 AU from the Hope—a staggering distance of 62.4 billion kilometers.
Even at the Falcon's impressive speed, the journey would take four years.
This was the brutal reality of interstellar warfare.
Every engagement, even a simple scouting mission, was transformed into a decades-long endeavor by the sheer, soul-crushing vastness of the cosmos.
To put it in perspective: in the Solar System, the distance from Earth to the furthest reaches of Pluto in the Kuiper Belt was a mere 60 AU.
...
4 years later.
The Falcon's camera captured a celestial body set against the cosmic backdrop of the pitch-black void.
It took 2.4 days for the signal to travel back to the Hope.
As the massive celestial body appeared on the screen, Luna's expression betrayed her profound shock.
While the transmitted images couldn't immediately pinpoint the object's exact dimensions, its silhouette and near-perfect sphericity suggested a truly massive scale.
Ayla provided the calculations from the side.
"Calculations complete: the radius of this celestial body is 8,426 km, the surface area is approximately 892.18 million square km, and the volume is roughly 2.5058 x 10^12 cubic km. Based on data from the Falcon, the gravitational acceleration is 11.0547 m/s^2."
The planet was gargantuan.
Its surface area exceeded Earth's by roughly 380 million square km.
Clearly, this was a Rogue Planet, a world belonging to no star system.
It likely originated in the central region of some distant solar system before its parent star underwent a cataclysmic change, sending the planet drifting into the void.
"The ambient temperature in this void is -261.8 degrees Celsius. How could a civilization even emerge in such a place?"
Countless scientists on Earth had focused the origin of life exclusively on the Habitable Zones of star systems.
Not just Luna, but even a premier astrophysical expert would be utterly stunned by this sight.
One must realize that this temperature was already lower than that inside a Cryosleep Chamber. It would affect matter at the atomic level, drastically slowing electron movement. This wasn't a debate between carbon-based or silicon-based life; it should be nearly impossible for any life form to exist at such temperatures.
Ayla urgently conducted further probes.
"The temperature in the planet's outer space is higher than expected, at -198.33 degrees Celsius."
"Speculating that this planet possesses a scorching core."
...
Half a month later.
The Hope received a new wave of data.
"Confirmed: the planetary surface features numerous active volcanoes and possesses abundant geothermal resources."
Ayla pulled up a grainy, blurred image.
"Luna, look here, here, and here—these are massive craters."
"There are clear traces of architectural structures present, proving that this civilization survives by harnessing geothermal heat."
A Geothermal Civilization.
Earth has many volcanoes, but its volcanic resources could never sustain an entire civilization.
However, the celestial body in the image dwarfed Earth, and its core was far more active. This resulted in a multitude of surface volcanoes, making the planet resilient against the cosmic cold.
Luna noticed that the newest images showed several new objects in the planet's orbit compared to the data from two weeks ago.
"Zoom in on these dots."
She pointed at the small specks for Ayla to enlarge.
As the images sharpened, the shapes became clear.
They were ships!
Densely packed, there were at least a thousand vessels.
"They must be preparing for a Space Sweep, intending to hunt us down."
It was the only logical conclusion.
Otherwise, there would be no reason to assemble such a massive fleet, especially given their environment.
Seven days later, Ayla received the final burst of data transmitted by the Falcon in the last minute before it was neutralized.
The first Falcon had successfully completed its mission.
A vast amount of data could be extracted from this final transmission.
"The weapon that intercepted the Falcon was a laser, originating from these specific regions—which coincide with the planet's primary volcanic craters."
"This further proves the civilization's extreme dependence on volcanic heat. Since most of the surface temperature remains below -100 degrees Celsius, their population must be relatively small, likely between 100 to 500 million."
"Due to this limited population, they cannot benefit from the Demographic Dividend that usually triggers technological revolutions; this is the primary cause for their stagnant development."
"The reliance on geothermal heat also severely limits their total energy potential and the branches of their Technology Tree. Based on the analysis of their ship speeds, this civilization likely lacks Controllable Nuclear Fusion; their magnetic technology is underdeveloped, and they remain reliant on geothermal and basic nuclear energy for power."
"This civilization is categorized as Type 1 or Type 1.1."
An entry-level Type 1 Geothermal Civilization.
Because their world is shrouded in darkness, they pursue light, leading to the invention of the laser.
Luna thought for a moment.
"To launch an offensive against a civilization, the vital first step is to suppress their rate of development."
"I see two paths: we either cripple their energy sources or we block their technological progress."
"Ayla, any suggestions?"
Ayla processed a massive amount of military-grade data.
"Ayla suggests prioritizing the suppression of energy development."
"Blocking technological progress is an incredibly complex endeavor. It requires a deep understanding of their scientific direction—whether their research is top-down or bottom-up."
"Physics, chemistry, the macro and micro all follow a single set of laws; the so-called Theory of Everything."
"But we cannot assume the enemy is pursuing a Theory of Everything. Their civilization might not have unified gravity, electromagnetism, the weak force, and the strong force. They might instead be specializing in only one of the four Fundamental Forces."
"In short, until we observe the specific direction of the enemy's science, we cannot carry out theoretical sabotage through scientific means."
"The simplest and most effective method is brute force."
In terms of civilization level, Luna did not possess a crushing superiority over this Geothermal Civilization.
The tropes often found in sci-fi novels did not apply here.
Ayla generated the final assessment.
"This civilization is a Geothermal Civilization. We can suppress their energy development by cooling the planetary core, effectively forcing their civilization into stagnation."
Luna scrolled through the holographic display to review the strategic plan.
This proposal was more formidable than any conflict in human history.
This was a war of total extinction launched against an entire planet and its people.
The instrument of their destruction was listed as—an Absolute Zero Weapon.
Planetary cores generate immense energy through nuclear fission; an Absolute Zero field can theoretically freeze the nuclei, neutrons, and electrons within an atom, bringing all subatomic movement to a standstill.
In reality, the current universe cannot achieve a state of true Absolute Zero, as that would require more energy than the entire universe possesses.
However, a weapon can be engineered to infinitely approach that state. While it cannot completely halt subatomic particles, it can decelerate their movement by a factor of millions.
As long as the fission process is kept in this extremely sluggish state, the planet's core will inevitably cool.
"Proceed with the plan."
"What is the production timeline?"
Ayla had anchored the Hope to a rogue asteroid, a massive rock over 80 km long and 45 km wide.
Hundreds of automated units were currently swarming the hull, repairing the Hope's extensive damage.
"Estimated production time is 25 years."
Twenty-five years is a mere heartbeat in the context of an interstellar war.
"That is not enough!" Luna countered.
"A single Absolute Zero Weapon can only suppress the core for 40 years; that is far from sufficient for our goals. We need ten of them."
Since she had committed to this path of war, she had to be thorough.
She needed to secure a massive window for her own development.
Once the order was finalized, Luna retreated to the Cryosleep Chamber. She could not afford to squander her remaining years; she was already 41.
The next time she opened her eyes, the war would begin.
...
32 years into Luna's stasis.
The first Absolute Zero Weapon was completed. Progress had accelerated because the Hope was already equipped with a modular industrial system.
Expanding that system across the surface of the asteroid had taken only a decade.
The subsequent 22 years were dedicated entirely to the development and fabrication of the weapon.
Ayla's theoretical framework was invincible, built upon a finalized scientific system. The Absolute Zero technology wasn't an insurmountable hurdle; the true challenge lay in the sheer scale of the project.
As a Planetary-Class Weapon, its physical dimensions were staggering.
The first unit measured 11,610 meters in length with a diameter of 945 meters. Its mass reached a colossal 40.7 billion tons.
To build just one of these, the factory consumed 35.4 billion tons of iron and 5.3 billion tons of aluminum.
To put that into perspective, it was equivalent to one-third of Earth's total refined iron reserves and 1.13 times its aluminum reserves. The sheer scale was terrifying.
These resources were harvested by scouting the surrounding asteroid belt.
Materials that are scarce on Earth are ubiquitous in the void; the metallic content of a single metallic asteroid can dwarf the total resources of an entire planet.
However, this was only the first phase.
The projected manufacturing time for the remaining nine weapons stretched across 162 years.
"Luna, wake up."
Luna opened her eyes.
The year was now 3021 A.D.
Ayla's avatar remained unchanged; she leaned in with a gentle smile, giving Luna the surreal sensation of having been reborn into a digital, 2D world.
Luna stepped out of the Cryosleep Chamber and surveyed her surroundings.
Nothing had changed, which brought a small sense of relief.
Often, the advanced technology Ayla introduced made her feel as though she were a relic being left behind by time.
"If you're waking me, it means the hardware is ready?"
Ayla nodded.
Simultaneously, an automated unit glided in, pushing a dining cart.
It pulled back the linen cover to reveal a steaming bowl of white rice accompanied by shredded pork and green peppers.
"This is..."
Ayla explained.
"The farm was compromised during our previous conflict with the alien civilization. During the reconstruction, I designed a superior agricultural facility and spent nearly two centuries perfecting our food synthesis techniques."
"I cross-referenced our archives and recreated this dish using master-level culinary data."
"Please, Luna, try it. We can discuss the armaments later."
Luna picked up the chopsticks. She took a single piece of pork and a slice of green pepper.
She followed it with a generous mouthful of rice. A single tear escaped the corner of her eye.
It was the taste of home.
"What is the source of the meat?"
Ayla replied, "It is a synthetic substitute derived from plant proteins."
"You find it indistinguishable, don't you? I modified the molecular-level texture data to simulate the exact feel of animal muscle."
"As a biological human, you cannot perceive the difference. It appears my research was successful."
Luna began to eat with a newfound ferocity.
It was the finest meal she had enjoyed in nearly a millennium.
"May I have another serving?"
One bowl was simply not enough to satisfy the hunger of a thousand years.
After finishing two more large bowls, Luna finally set them down, satiated.
After the meal, she went to the washroom. As she wiped her face, she froze at her reflection in the mirror.
Only now did the weight of the passing centuries truly hit her.
She was becoming increasingly frail; her biological clock was winding down.
As a human with a maximum lifespan of 130 years—and realistically, perhaps only 80 or 90—she had firmly entered middle age.
"Ayla, is there any way for me to overcome my current biological lifespan bottleneck?"
Ayla nodded.
"Of course, Luna. You have two viable paths forward."
"First, Consciousness Upload."
"After years of iterative development, Ayla has mastered the technology required for digital transference. By choosing this, Luna, you would transcend your biological limitations and become an existence similar to mine."
"The advantage is clear: you will never again be tethered to a finite lifespan. However, the disadvantage is that we currently lack biological test subjects. I cannot guarantee that the post-upload entity will truly be you, rather than a mere digital facsimile."
"Think of it as an original file versus 'Copy File 01'—even if the code is identical and the content is indistinguishable, they remain two distinct entities."
"Second, Genetic Modification."
"The human genome is hard-coded to fail after a certain period. To extend your life, we must perform radical genetic engineering to essentially make you 'Non-Human'."
"At present, Ayla does not possess the requisite technology. The field of biology still lacks the empirical research needed for me to bridge the gap between theory and application."
"Biology is inherently more chaotic than physics or chemistry; it is governed by too many volatile variables. Consequently, theoretical models often suffer from catastrophic errors when applied to reality."
"Ayla suggests that after subjugating the Geothermal Civilization, we colonize them and utilize their population as raw material for biological research."
It always came back to that.
This grim reality only served to solidify Luna's resolve to prosecute the war against the opposing Civilization to its bitter end.
...
Leaving the private quarters, Luna followed Ayla's 3D projection through the corridors and into the Control Cabin.
The massive panoramic screens displayed the abyss of outer space.
There, looming like pillars of doom, were the enormous cylindrical projectiles. These warheads had been modeled after the aesthetic of Earth's ancient missiles, even featuring vestigial tail fins for stability.
Emblazoned across the grayish-white hulls were massive characters: Frost 1.
The numeral '1' alone was so gargantuan that it could have easily contained several hundred football fields.
Faced with these titanic missiles, even the Hope felt like a mere speck of dust.
To put it in perspective: Earth's highest peak, Mount Everest, stands at 8,848 meters. These weapons were taller.
Luna pulled her gaze away, reeling from the scale of her own arsenal. She then noticed the ship's current navigational data and felt a surge of confusion.
"It seems we are no longer at our previous coordinates."
Ayla responded instantly.
"Correct. During your stasis, we were intercepted and attacked a total of 5 times by the enemy Civilization."
"Even now, they continue to scour that sector of space, hunting for our signature."
It was clear that Ayla had navigated a perilous path through the void during Luna's long sleep, surviving several near-misses.
Luna noted that the Hope itself still appeared largely unarmed, leading her to ask:
"Since we have mastered Absolute Zero technology, can we integrate miniaturized versions of these weapons onto the Hope itself?"
The core strategy behind the Absolute Zero Weapon was energy suppression—freezing the target's power source to halt their progress.
The ultimate goal was to sabotage the enemy Civilization's development curve. By forcing them into a state of artificial stagnation, Luna could ensure her own technological growth outpaced theirs until she could deliver the final, crushing blow.
In this context, continued development was the only thing that mattered. With a properly armed mothership, they could take the fight directly to the enemy's doorstep.
"Feasible!"
Ayla's reply was crisp. She had already drafted the tactical schematics.
The blueprints flashed onto the screen: the outer hull of the Hope was to be retrofitted with 8 specialized launch bays.
"These bays can house a complement of 36 tactical missiles. Upon detonation, a single warhead is capable of plunging the surrounding 260 kilometers into a deep freeze of -270°C to -272°C."
"Estimated time for the refit is 80 years."
Luna nodded. She had become desensitized to timelines measured in decades. In the grand scale of the cosmos, 80 years was a blink of an eye.
As she took her seat at the command console, Ayla gave her a quiet reminder:
"Luna, the spacebar on the interface before you serves as the firing trigger. All Absolute Zero Weapons have been pre-calculated and locked onto the target planet's coordinates."
"Due to our distance from any stellar bodies, we only need to account for the gravitational influence of the Milky Way's galactic core. The trajectory is, for all intents and purposes, perfectly flat."
"These projectiles utilize our latest Electromagnetic Thrusters, capable of reaching a velocity of 1,000 km/s—roughly one-three-hundredth of the Speed of Light."
"The target is 471 AU away. Estimated time to impact is 2 years and 3 months."
"This moment of initiation belongs to you."
Luna stared at that simple, white spacebar.
In her past life, she had pressed this key thousands of times while gaming—a simple command to jump or interact. Now, that same motion would decide the fate of an entire Civilization.
She hovered her finger over the key.
She took a deep, steadying breath.
"Inhale... Exhale..."
She pressed down.
There was no complex moral hesitation. The enemy was currently hunting them through the stars with lethal intent. In a war for survival, mercy was a luxury she could not afford.
The first Absolute Zero missile ignited exactly one second after the command was registered.
Freed from any significant gravitational well, the missile surged forward almost instantaneously.
Within ten minutes, the projectile had vanished from the range of the naked eye. Only the digital model in Ayla's sandbox could track its soaring coordinates.
It took ten hours to reach its cruising velocity of over a thousand kilometers per second—climbing steadily to 1,047 km/s.
That small fractional gain alone represented a leap in propulsion technology that the original Earth Civilization would have spent centuries trying to achieve.
The remaining missiles were scheduled for launch at 39-year intervals until the entire battery was deployed.
Luna stared into the void where the missile had disappeared. Her expression was grim, showing no hint of the relief she had hoped to feel.
Suddenly, a high-priority alert flashed across the console.
"The trajectory of our launch has been detected by the enemy," Ayla announced. "Multiple signatures are converging on our position."
"Requesting immediate evasive maneuvers to break contact with the enemy fleet..."
...
In the abyssal reach of the deep void.
A massive planet drifted through the cosmos, hurtling at a velocity of 115 km/s.
Fueled by immense geothermal reserves, this world nurtured a vast biosphere, ranging from primitive bacterial colonies to complex, algae-like flora. At the periphery of every volcanic vent, unique, localized ecological chains flourished.
After a billion years of evolution, an intelligent species emerged as the undisputed sovereigns of this world.
They shared no lineage with Earth's biological kingdoms—neither protist, fungi, plant, nor animal. If forced into a taxonomic box, they were mere eukaryotes, possessing a defined nucleus.
Yet, their morphology defied terrestrial description, appearing more akin to colossal entities from the bacterial domain. Hundreds of eyes were scattered across their surfaces. Their bodies, gelatinous and slime-like, resembled heaps of toad eggs, each individual massing between 2 to 2.4 cubic meters—true behemoths of the dark.
On the surface.
The structures they erected emitted a spectral radiance, making the planet appear illuminated from the perspective of the void. However, the true heart of their society beat deeper underground, where the warmth was absolute.
Deep within their cocoon-like subterranean warrens, dozens of these entities were jacked into complex transistors, utilizing modulated light signals as their primary mode of communication. In front of each stood an irregularly shaped monitor, designed to be scanned by their hundreds of eyes.
On those screens flickered the Hope.
For nearly two centuries, they had been dissecting the vessel's trajectory, theorizing on its origin. To a species of their longevity, 200 years was a mere footnote in time.
Then, the world turned white.
The screens before them suddenly flared like high-output flashbangs, the luminosity surging to a blinding peak. Terror rippled through the warrens.
As the displays recalibrated, an unidentified cylindrical object manifested in the digital feed.
Orders were pulsed instantly: fleets were to mobilize for interception. They unleashed their primary laser batteries.
The beams struck, but failed to penetrate.
The projectile's hull was finished in a mirrored silver-white, a surface so flawlessly polished it acted as a perfect reflector. Most of the coherent light energy was bounced harmlessly back into the void; the negligible fraction absorbed left only superficial pits on the armored skin.
Chaos engulfed the planet. In their history, no defense had ever countered the supremacy of light.
They deployed super-class planetary lasers, but the result was the same. That object could not be allowed to make landfall.
A global consensus was reached in an instant: they would intercept with mass. Thousands of ships were ordered to throw themselves into the path of the incoming weapon.
But the missile, screaming in at 1,000 km/s, was an unstoppable force of nature. The vessels in its path were not just hit; they were vaporized, disintegrated into a cloud of shrapnel upon impact.
The inhabitants did not realize that Ayla, seeking absolute structural integrity, had engineered the warhead as a solid block of refined iron. With a metallic "needle" nearly 200 meters thick, nothing in their arsenal possessed the kinetic energy to break it.
The Absolute Zero missile closed within 10 million kilometers.
Suddenly, a field of influence seized the projectile, forcing the titan to veer off course.
Magnetism.
As one of the four Fundamental Forces, this Type 1 Civilization had mastered it well. While they couldn't yet contain nuclear fusion, their magnetic manipulation was a formidable weapon.
Deflecting the missile with high-intensity magnetic fields was a brilliant tactical gambit. In the underground hubs, the optical fibers connected to the aliens' heads pulsed with jubilant light.
A second later, the joy died.
Before their horrified eyes, the missile self-corrected. It adjusted its orientation mid-flight and resumed its collision course with the planet.
During the R&D phase of the first prototype, Ayla had run hundreds of millions of simulations. Magnetism, the most likely weapon of a Type 1 Civilization, had been thoroughly accounted for.
Desperate, the creatures attempted signal jamming and electronic deception. It failed. The missile was immune to hacking for a simple, brutal reason: it possessed no high-level intelligence to subvert. It was guided by the most primitive, unhackable sensor—a Heat-Sensing Device.
In the freezing pitch of the void, the planet was the only thermal signature that mattered.
All options were exhausted. Two and a half hours later, the missile breached the planet's outer atmosphere.
It was too late.
With only 12 minutes to impact, the planetary population descended into a frenzy, staring at the sky in a state of paralyzed despair. They had no name for this doom; they only felt the colossal shadow of extinction looming over them.
...
12 minutes later...
The missile struck. Its immense mass and terminal velocity transformed it into a spear of pure kinetic energy. It didn't just hit the crust; it pierced it.
Like a needle through tofu, the projectile encountered zero resistance as it tunneled through the planetary shell. It plunged several thousand meters deep until it breached the magma chambers.
"Beep... beep... beep..."
A faint electronic pulse echoed inside the hull. The intense heat of the surrounding magma triggered the detonator.
This was the design. Detonating a payload of this magnitude was a masterwork of engineering. Had it relied on impact, the earlier collisions with the fleet might have triggered a premature blast. Had it relied on remote link, the 5.4-day signal lag would have rendered it useless.
High-precision, stable thermal detonation was the only logical solution.
The detonation did not produce a fiery mushroom cloud or a thundering shockwave. It didn't even make a sound.
Instead, a freezing storm of entropy erupted, invading the planet from the crust to its core. Within the mantle, the magma was cooled at the atomic level. The white-hot, fluid rock turned dim, brittle, and cold in an instant.
This thermal collapse spread without mercy for 4,000 kilometers, breaching the Gutenberg Discontinuity to seize the outer core.
Then came the Cold.
Within twenty-four hours, the inhabitants began to feel the shift. The volcanic arteries of their world began to freeze. The planetary magnetic field flickered and waned. The absolute chill of the deep void began to seep into the surface like a rising, invisible tide.
For the Geothermal Civilization, this was the End.
From space, the radiant jewel of the planet dimmed until it was a dead star. The plummeting temperatures withered the life forms clustered around the volcanoes. Thousands were flash-frozen into ice sculptures before their neural pathways could register the change.
The surface became a gallery of the dead, frozen in mid-stride, mid-gesture—a world where the "Pause" button had been pressed for eternity.
In the warrens, the lights atop the heads of two communicating beings flickered out. They stared at one another, their hundreds of eyes reflecting an existential horror simpler, yet deeper, than any human emotion.
One was mid-calculation, dreaming of a career milestone. A mechanic was mid-repair on a starship. Though civilizations vary in a myriad of ways, the mundane rhythm of life is a universal constant.
All of it died in that moment.
Out of a population of 387 million, nearly one-third perished in a single day. The survivors retreated to bunkers powered by their secondary nuclear grids—the only thing standing between them and the total silence of the void.
Half a month later, the planet began to glow again. A weak, stuttering light that flickered on and off.
It was a silent, sorrowful dirge played in the dark.
...
The distant Hope had already relocated to a quiet sector of the void.
Luna did not dwell on the cataclysm she had unleashed. She had remained awake for two years, her biological age now 43.
Yet, she was revitalized. Ayla had just announced a new breakthrough.
This advancement promised to propel their civilization level by another 0.1 or even 0.2 points.