Chapter Six: Reunion with Father

In the very same command center hall where the launch of Starry Sky One had been directed all those years ago, a group of people gathered once again. Most of them had participated in the original launch, though the rocket and launch site crews were absent this time. They listened intently as duty officers from the past five years recounted their monitoring reports on Starry Sky One. After the briefing, under the guidance of the chief commander from that era, they discussed the current condition of the ship, drawing conclusions from the records. Their consensus was that the spacecraft should be operating normally. Data from the sensors in the astronaut's hibernation chamber indicated that Li Xingyu remained in stasis. Any more precise assessment would have to wait until Li Xingyu awoke and personally inspected the ship. Until now, every action and process onboard had been carried out automatically by the ship’s computer. Given the immense distance, even radio signals took a long time to travel between the ship and Earth, making remote control virtually impossible.

Once they had analyzed the ship’s general condition, the chief commander decided to send the wake-up command to Li Xingyu. The original mission plan had not specified a time to rouse the astronaut, largely because the unpredictable length of deep space travel made such scheduling impractical. Moreover, the onboard computer needed the ability to autonomously adjust the flight path to avoid cosmic debris that might collide with and damage the ship. After issuing the command, everyone waited in silence, much as they had before ignition at the initial launch. They could only hope the signal would reach the ship, that Li Xingyu would be awakened, and that he would return the message confirming his safe revival. If he could not be awakened, this mission would have ended in failure.

What the command center did not know was that Li Xingyu’s consciousness had been strengthened through cultivation, and with the effects of the drug almost entirely faded, he could have awoken himself more than a year ago, had he tried to sense and control his body. After his initial failed attempt, he had given up, and was now wholly immersed in his spiritual practice. Over the course of nearly five years, even in a cosmos devoid of spiritual energy, he had managed to master two-thirds of the technique left by the old man—at least, by his own reckoning. In truth, he had only reached the intermediate stage of the first layer of the foundational technique, since the old man’s notes, as translated, only described that initial layer.

When he once again halted the guided circulation of energy within his body, a sudden sensation registered in his consciousness—a stimulus from his physical form. Having been so long without any sensory input from his body, he was momentarily confused. After a while, he realized it was the jolt of electricity. Gradually, memories sealed away for five years resurfaced in his mind: his identity, his mission, and with that, the realization that the ship's life-support system was using an electric shock to awaken him. Yet his temperament was much changed from five years before; he did not feel excessive joy. Instead, he let his consciousness extend along the current, and soon perceived the existence of his body. After a period of adjustment and a cursory survey of his surroundings, he discovered the canopy of the life-support pod had already opened, and he attempted to stand. His movements were awkward at first, unpracticed after so long in stasis, but he gradually regained normal coordination, though some stiffness lingered.

He now understood that he had not died, and that his previous state was not that of a ghost. If not a ghost, then what was it? And had his experiences in cultivation been real, or merely hallucinations? He could not yet be sure. But recalling his mission, he quickly left the life-support pod, opened a small external hatch, and reported: “Starry Sky One to Earth Command, I am awake. My body is fully functional. The spacecraft requires further inspection.” With no time to ponder what had happened during his long sleep, he set to work: running thorough checks of the ship and preparing for the next phase of the mission. His heart beat faster at the thought of the task ahead, excitement mingled with a thread of sorrow.

When ground control received the message from Starry Sky One, the hall erupted in cheers. Rather than attempt a conversation, they stuck to protocol, knowing the distances involved made communication slow and difficult. After a full inspection of the ship’s systems, Li Xingyu found everything to be in order. He transmitted this information, then began preparations to enter orbit around Taiyue and to dock with the ship left in orbit there fourteen years ago—the very ship his father had commanded.

His father’s ship was called the Adventurer, fitting for a man of his temperament. Li Xingyu knew something of its state from photos taken by later unmanned probes passing through the solar system, which had captured images as they accelerated to third cosmic velocity near Taiyue’s orbit. After careful study of these pictures, the aerospace center concluded that docking was still possible, and that the research data and logs aboard should remain intact. Only under this premise was the docking mission added to this manned voyage beyond the solar system. Li Xingyu was chosen not only for his prowess as an astronaut, but, perhaps, because his father—a renowned hero of the space program—was involved.

After finishing his checks, Li Xingyu measured the spacecraft’s speed, distance, and trajectory relative to Taiyue, then used the computer to calculate the necessary parameters and input them into the flight control system. Satisfied with his data, he pressed the execute button. The ship shuddered, altering its speed and course toward Taiyue.

As he drew nearer to the planet, Li Xingyu’s anticipation grew. Through the porthole, he could already see towering mountains and the immense ring craters left by asteroid impacts. Once the ship automatically entered orbit, he waited for the Adventurer to appear. When the radar locked onto the target, it quickly calculated its trajectory and velocity. Upon pressing the synchronization button, Starry Sky One began slowly closing the gap. When he reached the minimum safe distance, Li Xingyu disabled the autopilot—since the Adventurer was no longer functional, automatic docking was impossible.

Once the ship stabilized, Li Xingyu took the pilot’s seat, manually aligning the docking ports of both vessels. After completing the connection, he donned his spacesuit, gathered his tools, and entered the airlock, proceeding through the passageway to the Adventurer’s docking hatch. Finding it damaged, he cut a person-sized hole and entered. He conducted a quick assessment of the ship’s condition before heading straight for the cockpit, where his father’s body remained. Although he ought to retrieve the ship’s data first, he had waited fourteen years for this moment; as a son, he could not follow procedure dispassionately.

Entering the cockpit, he saw his father’s body, still strapped into the pilot’s seat, frozen solid. For a moment, faced with this reality, he was at a loss. Memories of their time together surged within him. He wanted to touch his father, but could not; the suit was necessary because the powerless cabin was lethally cold, and his father’s body, brittle from the extreme temperature, might be damaged by a careless touch. He gazed at his father for a long time, then stood by his side and used his MVP5 to take a final photograph together before leaving the cockpit.

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