For more than a year after that, Starling never went back into hibernation.
Lord Julian deployed a dedicated communications satellite for her, making their connection far more private—and far more reliable.
With Julian’s help, she grew orange beans in quantities several times greater than before. She explored parts of the ship she’d never dared to enter: dismantling robots, shuttles, luggage bays, and any battery-powered device she could find, scavenging every usable cell. If the ship’s main power ever failed, those batteries could still keep the hibernation pod running a while longer.
Life during this period was tense, busy, and orderly.
And after the crash, it was the fullest and happiest stretch Starling had known.
She thought she could keep going like this until rescue came.
Then one day, Julian told her that Hector had been captured.
Starling felt like she’d fallen straight from heaven into hell.
The days that followed were inevitably another stretch of darkness. Even Lord Julian couldn’t guarantee Hector would keep the Sunflower’s secret under pressure.
The Sunflower was no longer safe.
Starling urgently installed three surveillance probes outside the ship and watched the outside world constantly.
But if an enemy truly came… she could do nothing.
The cameras only amplified her fear. Any tiny movement outside made her shiver, skin crawling. She lived every day in extreme anxiety.
Julian offered a suggestion. It wasn’t a good one—but it was at least something she could do.
She began going out on patrol: staying alert for threats while also searching for another shelter where the hibernation pod could be relocated.
She searched every nearby cave, ravine, sinkhole. She climbed every mountain peak within sight. From the peaks she scanned every direction and found the landscape eerily uniform—no place suited to moving the pod.
She tried going farther—so far that it took a full day to reach.
On the return trip, she lost her way. It took her three days of stumbling and guessing to find the ship again. After that, she never dared to travel far.
And it wasn’t only Plando’s threat that haunted her.
The ship’s steadily decreasing power gnawed at her every day.
Fear. Loneliness. Helplessness…
In the darkness, it felt as if a starving beast was watching her at all times.
She couldn’t see it.
But she knew it was there—
and that it could pounce at any moment and tear her apart.
She was already on the edge of collapse.
Then a ray of light cut through the endless dark.
Someone had taken over Hector’s burden.
A “person” who was battle-tested, knew the terrain, was highly capable, and absolutely trustworthy—that was how Lord Julian described him.
Wyatt.
For days, Starling kept repeating the name to Carlos’s photo.
She repeated it to the sleeping Linneya too.
Linneya looked a little older than before. During long hibernations, even a developing child still grows—slowly. Now she looked more like a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girl.
Malnutrition had left her skin pale. She was thin as a dry branch.
And yet there was still the faint trace of a smile on her lips as she clung tightly to her father’s arm, as if she were having a sweet dream.
Watching Linneya through the pod lid, Starling remembered the first time she met her.
She’d been so optimistic. So bright. Always laughing.
Now, the only time Starling saw that smile was when Linneya was asleep.
To reduce the negative effects of long-term hibernation, Starling had woken Linneya briefly on a few of her own wake cycles.
The first thing Linneya always did was hug Starling and cry.
She was still drowning in the pain of losing Carlos—because for her, only a few days had passed. The reality outside the ship hit her again like a second death, pushing her into deep depression.
She wanted to leave. She wanted to visit Carlos. She wanted to climb a mountain and see the sun or the moon. Feel the wind. See the ocean. She even wanted to walk back to Fanxing City—anything, anywhere, as long as she could live somewhere else.
She begged.
In short, she didn’t want to spend a single more day inside this ship that felt like a grave.
More than once, Linneya said that every nightmare she’d ever had was tied to this ship.
But the harsh world outside reminded her constantly:
this “grave” was also the only reason she was alive.
Even here, she couldn’t truly live for long. Food, water, air—limited. If she stayed awake for one week, she’d burn through a year of Starling’s labor.
A hibernation pod—like a coffin—was her only long-term option.
***
Wyatt set off.
Starling began another round of waiting—only now, hope was mixed into all the old darkness.
It was the last time she managed to rally. If Wyatt suffered another accident… she didn’t know what she would become.
On the wall beside the island radio station, she had taped up a tattered world map.
Between the Sunflower and Twin-Tower Base, she drew a line.
Every time she received Wyatt’s position, she marked a small dot along the route and wrote the date beside it.
The closer the dot got to her, the more hope replaced the rot inside her.
Finally…
The long wait was nearly over.
And then, an unexpected piece of good news swept every negative emotion out of her in one blow:
Lord Julian had already reached Phantom Forge’s lair…
The war was about to end.
Which meant her suffering was about to end too.
In her final communication with Wyatt, Starling could barely contain herself as she told him the news. Wyatt replied that he would arrive in one week…
The next day she climbed the highest mountain nearby and stared north, imagining the final battle in the invisible distance—shaking the heavens.
Then she looked east, imagining a mighty robot racing through the valleys on a sea-scooter, dust trailing behind…
Which would arrive first—the news of Phantom Forge’s fall, or Wyatt himself?
In the days that followed, Starling kept guessing.
But she never would have imagined that what arrived first was…
an earthquake.
***
It happened on the sixth night.
Starling cleaned the entrance passage until it shone, changed into a captain’s uniform, pinned the captain’s insignia to her chest, and even fixed her hair and makeup. Even if she was only facing a robot, she didn’t want to look disheveled.
Then the accident happened.
There was no warning.
The ground suddenly shook violently. Starling was thrown to the floor. Steel plates screamed as they compressed, deformed, and tore. Rotten pipes and cables fell from above. Objects crashed everywhere. Dust filled the air…
Then the deck plates themselves began to warp like a liquid surface. Some sections split open, revealing the ship’s lower levels—and worse, heavy collapses boomed from different parts of the ship.
The sudden disaster left her helpless. She staggered up and tried to run toward the hibernation pod room, but before she made it far, a falling pipe struck her and knocked her unconscious.
…
She didn’t know how much time passed.
“Squeak-squeak-squeak!”
A strange sound woke her.
The moment her eyes opened, she saw a “mouse-shaped” thing standing on her chest, squeaking at her wildly.
“Ah—A MOUSE!”
Starling screamed, flung her arm, and slapped the “mouse” away. She sprang up and ran.
The earthquake had already stopped. She ran all the way to the hibernation pods and only relaxed when she saw Linneya was still safe.
At the same time, her rational mind returned.
An earthquake—fine.
But how could there possibly be a mouse on the ship?
That was…
That was too absurd.
With confusion gnawing at her, she forced herself to go back.
The ship interior was a wreck. Some compartments had collapsed into rubble. Some floors had split, exposing several levels below. Some ceiling sections had bent down so low she had to stoop to pass.
The ship had returned to silence. The “mouse” was nowhere to be found.
If she hadn’t seen it up close just moments ago, she might have believed she’d imagined it.
What was that thing?
Suddenly, a new sound made her jump again.
This time it wasn’t squeaking.
It sounded like… voices.
Carefully listening, the sound seemed to come from the monitoring room.
Starling pulled her sidearm and crept toward it.
The monitoring room was empty.
But on the surveillance screen, a robot’s head filled the display.
The robot was speaking:
“Hi! Is that Janiel? Can you hear me? Are you okay? We’re—”
“Stop babbling and get to the point!” another robot shoved it aside. A slightly larger robot leaned close to the camera and shouted:
“Open the door! We’re friendly!”
“Mind your manners. We’re visiting a lady of good birth!” a third voice scolded.
A taller, larger robot shoved both of the first two heads out of frame and spoke in a gentle tone:
“May I ask if this is Miss Janiel? We apologize for the late-night visit—it’s truly impolite. If we haven’t disturbed you, would you be willing to come out and meet us?”
Chapters 171-175