Captain’s Log — Chapter 7119

  We are wanderers from the planet Teleopea.

  Our galaxy once held twelve civilizations besides our own. Alongside ten thousand five hundred and forty-six civilizations from neighboring galaxies, we fought over resources and territory for seven thousand six hundred interstellar cycles.

  In the end, eleven hundred civilizations survived. Together, we formed the Interstellar Federation.

  Peace did not last.

  Our universe is dying.

  Those who endured the wars were erased by galactic collisions. Even Teleopea was reduced to dust by a gamma-ray burst.

  Fortunately, we prepared.

  A fortress-vessel was constructed. Genetic archives of our people—and of all native species—were preserved. We escaped extinction, temporarily.

  Time is no longer on our side. Universal collapse is accelerating.

  Our only option is departure: to locate another universe governed by physical laws compatible with our own.

  Opening a spacetime corridor poses little difficulty. Identifying a viable destination proved impossible—

  until we encountered an anomalous black hole.

  Artificial.

  Not produced by any civilization from our universe.

  Its structure was unstable. Using quantum stabilization, we secured it and began surveying the physical constants of the universe beyond.

  The results were optimal.

  After risk assessment, we will cross the black hole, enter an unfamiliar universe, and continue our civilization’s legacy.

  I am Captain Chen. Xing. Chen.

  Yan Qing jolted awake.

  His heart raced, his mind still echoing with images that refused to fade: interstellar battlefields soaked in blood, alien cities collapsing into silence, green worlds erased by blinding white light.

  Too vivid. Too coherent.

  “You’re awake.”

  The voice came from above him.

  Yan Qing turned—and nearly jerked against the restraints.

  Under harsh white lights stood a flawless face, pale and precise as sculpted jade.

  The one who had attacked him.

  “What are you trying to do?” Yan Qing demanded. His chest still ached, though the pain had dulled.

  “Nothing hostile,” the being replied pleasantly. “I wish to negotiate.”

  “How are you speaking our language?”

  He tapped a small stud embedded in his right ear. “A synchronized translator. I am not speaking your language. I am reproducing its output.”

  The pronunciation was flawless regardless.

  Yan Qing swallowed. “Negotiate what?”

  The being sat beside him with casual ease. Up close, his beauty was unsettling—too precise, too deliberate.

  “I require data from your vessel.”

  “It’s a ground vehicle,” Yan Qing said, turning his head away. “This was a scientific expedition. We weren’t meant to leave Earth.”

  “An unanticipated outcome,” the being replied calmly. “In exchange for access codes, we will pass through the black hole into your universe—and return you safely.”

  Yan Qing’s dream resurfaced.

  “Because your universe is dying,” he said quietly.

  The being inclined his head.

  “So it wasn’t a dream.” Yan Qing hesitated. “Your name?”

  “Chen. Xing. Chen.”

  The same name.

  Yan Qing didn’t believe in spontaneous psychic phenomena.

  “What did you do to me?”

  Somewhere Unexpected

  “Contact-based neural sensing,” Chen. Xing. Chen replied.“In simple terms, I accessed your memories. During that process, fragments of mine were transferred.”

  Yan Qing said nothing.

  The sensation lingered—intimate and profoundly unsettling. Not recollection, but inheritance. Memories of events he had never lived: collapsing starfields, civilizations burning, a universe unraveling.

  “When you reach Earth,” Yan Qing asked at last, “will you leave peacefully and search elsewhere?”

  Chen regarded him with faint amusement.

  “If you possess better terms,” he said, “you should present them.”

  “I do.”

  That earned his full attention.

  “Before Genesis,” Yan Qing continued, forcing his thoughts into order, “I conducted an unsanctioned test. I created a microscopic black hole and transmitted a single atom through it—both ways.”

  Chen’s expression sharpened.“Trials?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Success rate?”

  “Sixty percent.”

  For the first time, Chen smiled openly—bright, calculating, satisfied.

  “I accept,” he said. “On the condition that you provide the full equations and cooperate with my scientific corps.”

  Yan Qing nodded. Refusal had never been an option.

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  The remaining members of the Genesis team were confined together, tension pressing thicker than the recycled air.

  “Let us out,” Aiden muttered, pacing. “This is how it goes in the movies. Aliens don’t negotiate.”

  “Lower your voice,” Sam snapped. “If they wanted us dead, we’d already be gone.”

  Joe stared at the wall, jaw clenched.

  “We were used,” he said. “Thrown into an experiment and abandoned.”

  “We didn’t have a choice,” Aiden replied weakly.

  “They’re not explorers,” Joe said suddenly. “They’re predators.”

  The door slid open.

  A familiar figure stepped inside.

  “Lieutenant Lanice?” Aiden whispered.

  Alive.

  “Are you trying to curse me?”The words sounded reproachful, yet the Lieutenant’s face carried the unmistakable joy of reunion.

  Lanice had narrowly escaped with his life. Just as that monster was about to clamp onto his head, a figure intervened.

  A Teleopean.

  At the time, Lanice had frozen in shock—the grotesque creature immediately dropped to the ground and crawled obediently at that person’s feet, like a dog greeting its master.

  Later, the alien who saved him explained that the creature truly was a pet—and that he himself was its owner.

  Anyone who could keep something like that as a pet had to be far more dangerous than the beast itself…

  As he walked, Lanice couldn’t help muttering uneasily to himself.

  His eyes drifted again and again to the alien walking ahead, to the tail swaying behind him. The silver bone-spike at its tip caught the light from time to time, flashing with a cold gleam.

  Then the teenager-looking alien suddenly stopped and turned around. A child-like face greeted him, smiling gently as he asked for his name.

  That smile, paired with pupils that gleamed like a predator’s, sent an inexplicable chill down Lanice’s spine.

  Pulled back into the present, the lieutenant scanned the area—but Yan Qing was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s the professor?”

  Silence.

  “He was badly injured,” Sam said. “We had to leave him.”

  Lanice’s expression hardened.“You abandoned a teammate.”

  “I asked them to,” a calm voice said.

  Yan Qing stood in the doorway—pale, upright, breathing carefully.

  Yan Qing was welcomed by the team—until he explained the agreement. The reaction was immediate. The room erupted.

  “You’re inviting a hostile civilization into our world,” Joe shouted, grabbing Yan Qing’s collar. “You don’t get to gamble Earth!”

  “And you’d rather watch it collapse?” Yan Qing snapped, shoving him back. “Genesis is expanding. This isn’t theory—it’s happening.”

  The two glared at each other, neither willing to back down. The atmosphere tightened instantly.

  “Enough! Both of you, calm down!” Lanice hurried forward, forcing himself between them. “Joe, I understand the professor’s motivation. Yes, it’s dangerous—but it’s a risk worth taking!”

  “Dangerous?!” Joe snarled, shooting a vicious glare at the scientist sheltered behind their superior. His voice rose, sharp and unrestrained.“He never should have published that damned spatial report in the first place! Because of this insanity, we’re all cursed! Space travel! Black holes! Those were things God created—what right does he have to play God?!”

  “Because he is a sentient being who understands the necessity of exploration.”

  The voice was calm. Flat. Quiet.

  Yet it carried clearly enough for everyone in the room to hear.

  All four turned toward its source, instantly on guard.

  “Am I that frightening?” Chen asked with a perfectly harmless smile, stepping closer.“Even without touching you, I can feel the fear in your neural activity.”

  The tension stiffened further with the alien’s intrusion. Yan Qing stepped forward, positioning himself directly in front of Chen.

  “I told you I would talk to my team myself. Why did you come in?”

  “They are questioning you,” Chen replied evenly. “Aren’t they?”

  “That still has nothing to do with you,” Yan Qing snapped. “Please leave. We’re still in the middle of a discussion.”

  He pointed firmly toward the door.

  Chen did not react with anger. Instead, he gave a soft, almost amused shake of his head and stepped back outside. There was resignation in his posture—and, unmistakably, a trace of indulgent fondness.

  When the door sealed, Yan Qing exhaled.

  “He’s the boss here?” Aiden asked quietly, his eyes still fixed on the door where the alien had vanished.

  “Yes.”

  “And if he breaks his promise?” Joe pressed on, his voice still stained with animosity.

  Yan Qing didn’t hesitate.

  “Then I’ll be the first human he kills.”

  Preparation blurred into hours.

  Yan Qing worked alongside Teleopean scientists, refining equations and approach vectors. Their precision was not arrogance—it was fear.

  They could not afford failure.

  On a monitor, Aiden and Sam argued over nothing. The sound grounded Yan Qing more than he expected.

  Absorbed in his own thoughts, Yan Qing failed to notice the alien commander approaching.

  “What is it?”

  The alien bent down, his lips hovering so close to Yan Qing’s right ear that the sudden tickling sensation startled the human, making him physically jump out of his chair.

  “Don’t, please just stay one meter away from me.” Yan Qing said.

  Chen laughed softly, indulgent, and complied with the human’s request without protest.

  Watching Chen’s brilliantly radiant smile, Yan Qing felt an inexplicable urge to punch that dazzling face—twice, at least. In the end, he restrained the impulse, lowered his gaze, and turned his head aside.

  “How’s the shuttle coming along?”

  “Final testing is underway. It’ll take another dozen star-ring hours or so.”

  A star-ring hour was the standardized unit of time in this universe; one star-ring hour was equivalent to 1.45 Earth hours.

  “I see…” Yan Qing frowned slightly and walked to the circular window of the bedroom, staring out at the view—countless points of light flickered within the violet-red nebula. These were not newborn stars, but the death-flares of stars colliding with stars.

  “If you don’t keep your promise, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Yan Qing said after a long pause, his gaze returning to Chen. “From your perspective, attacking Earth for the sake of your own species wouldn’t be wrong. But—”

  Chen raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

  “Before you break your oath, kill me first.”

  The irony of cause and effect threaded through everything that had happened, and Yan Qing himself was the origin of it all. Regardless of his intentions, he could not deny his responsibility for opening the Genesis black hole. If the Teleopeans crossed through it and attacked Earth, then Yan Qing would be the one who destroyed humanity. How, then, could he justify continuing to live?

  “Your distrust of us is understandable,” the alien commander said lightly, idly running his fingers along the armrest as he sat down in Yan Qing’s chair. “But from what you’ve seen in my memories, don’t you think we’re not a war-loving species?”

  “…That, I can’t be certain of.”

  Chen hadn’t lied. From his memories, Yan Qing understood enough: every Teleopean war had been provoked, without exception. And every one had ended in decisive, overwhelming victory. Their enemies rarely survived.

  Not war-loving, perhaps—but not benevolent.

  Seeing the doubt written plainly on Yan Qing’s face, Chen sighed, a touch of weariness in his expression. “All right. At times, we are… cruel to your standard. But our motive has always been self-preservation—”

  “Is there any point in explaining this to me?” Yan Qing interrupted, genuinely puzzled. He didn’t understand why this alien commander felt the need to justify his species’ morality to him.

  “There is,” Chen replied. His golden eyes glimmered with something ambiguous as he lounged back in the chair Yao Qing previously occupied, silver-tipped nails lightly scraping the metal armrest. “I want you to understand me better.”

  “Do you realize you talk far too much to strangers?”

  Yan Qing was caught off guard, the remark escaping him before he could stop it—unfiltered and entirely reflexive. His bluntness had always surfaced most sharply in moments like this.

  “Is that so?”

  The alien showed no offense. Instead, he blinked once, a fleeting pause betraying something like mild embarrassment at his own social misstep.

  “But, I thought you would stop distrusting me if I explained properly.” The alien continued and made Yan Qing exhale quietly; it seemed he’d overthought things. The alien’s earlier gestures and tone had been… odd.

  “My trust—or lack of it—isn’t what matters,” Yan Qing said at last. “What matters is the choice you make when the time comes.”

  Eleven star-ring cycles later, the Teleopean Ministry of Technology announced the completion of the traversing mechanism. Captain Chen.Xing.Chen decided to initiate the plan to cross the black hole.

  Warp alarms sounded.

  “Adjust to entry angle! Commander, we’ll breach the black hole interface in ten star-ring seconds!”Seated in the command chair, Chen.Xing.Chen nodded. “Proceed to the inter-dimensional portal at seventy percent the speed of light.”“Yes, sir!”“The hull has entered the gravity well! Countdown—five! Four! Three! Two! One! Entering—now!”A split second later, every instrument on the bridge erupted in shrill alarms. The lights flashed wildly, and everyone present felt their bodies wrenched forward by an invisible force—just as the Genesis team had experienced when they first arrived in this universe.Not only did the five humans suffer unbearable agony, but even the Teleopeans aboard could not withstand the strain.From outside the ship, the massive spindle-shaped vessel stretched and thinned, drawn out until it became a single line—then, in a flash of light, it was swallowed whole by the interstellar abyss.Almost immediately, the black hole collapsed and twisted, then evaporated like steam—vanishing without a trace.The departure of the Teleopeans might mark the final chapter in the history of intelligent life in this universe—or perhaps, the beginning of something entirely new.