CAT Chapter 3: At The Heart of the Vortex (3)

May our souls return home.

This little thing had already thrown several people into disarray even before waking up. Once awake, he managed to escalate the chaos further into utter pandemonium.

Old grudges and new grievances piled up as Ling Yi stubbornly refused to let Lin Si approach him again.

Given his prior escapade of dismantling the hibernation pod barehanded, even the other kids were now visibly nervous whenever they got near him.

In the end, it was Seth who managed to coax him with a concoction of high-concentration glucose water mixed with nutrients. After a long bout of cajoling, he finally got him to drink it.

Once fed, Ling Yi became unexpectedly quiet and obedient. He said nothing, made no unnecessary movements, and simply huddled in a blanket, watching the people bustling in and out of the lab.

“He’s observing you guys,” Lin Si came up with the result. “He’s smart. Let’s raise him like he’s an infant.”

At that very moment, Lucia unexpectedly greeted Ling Yi, “Hello, Ling Yi.”

Ling Yi looked up immediately, turning his gaze toward a corner of the ceiling.

Lin Si, holding a form in hand, marked a star in the “hearing” section.

Lucia’s voice design was remarkably human-like, creating an effect that seemed to resonate directly in the listener’s ears. Most people wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the source of the sound, but this little guy located it precisely in a matter of seconds.

Lucia repeated, “Hello, Ling Yi.”

“Lucia?” Lin Si asked, “Are you teaching him?”

“Yes, Wizard-daren,” Lucia replied.

Ling Yi still looked at where the sound came from, while Lucia repeated over and over, “Hello, Ling Yi.”

Finally, Ling Yi parted his lips, hesitantly attempting the sounds.

The word “hello” was easy to pronounce, so there were no mistakes. Everyone waited eagerly for what he would say next. To their surprise, Ling Yi didn’t repeat his own name but instead said, “… Lucia.”

Seth exaggerated a shocked expression.

Recognizing that “Lucia” was a name indicated significant intelligence and an understanding of human speech. Despite his unusual physiology, he could still be categorized as human, which drastically lowered his perceived threat level.

Although Ling Yi was considered human, Lucia was not. Despite her advanced intelligence, she lacked the maternal instinct to soothe a child and mechanically repeated phrases without variation.

“Ling Yi, welcome back.”

“This is the Sixth Zone of the Voyager.”

“It is now the year 2681. You’ve been away from Earth for 137 years.”

Ling Yi looked at her, not quite fully understanding.

Sensors adhered to his skin continuously monitored his vital signs. One of the observing kids exclaimed, “Huh? He’s showing significant relaxation.”

Another responded, “It’s common for young ones to exhibit this when approaching less aggressive individuals. Their instincts are highly attuned, avoiding dominant figures and gravitating toward less threatening ones.”

The young crew members collectively cast covert glances at Lin Si.

Lin Si was writing the logbook of the voyage, a mandatory daily task for the vessel’s commander. He wielded a ballpoint pen—a nostalgically retro writing instrument that remained a popular choice for many.

His white shirt was buttoned meticulously to the top, his posture impeccably upright, and his expression blank. Without a smile, his entire demeanor exuded an obsessive precision, almost neurotic in its fastidiousness.

Unanimously, the young crew members shrank back, retracting their gazes to focus obediently on their own tasks. Despite Lin Si’s age being close to theirs, he was far more intimidating than their mentor.

With Lucia’s mechanical repetition and Ling Yi’s occasional response, time passed for a long time until a small timer on Lin Si’s desk ticked.

He got up from the table and took off a syringe.

As soon as Ling Yi saw him approaching, he stiffened. Rejection was written all over his body.

Lin Si said nothing, stepping directly in front of him and taking hold of his wrist.

Before Ling Yi could process what was happening, the needle pierced his skin.

Moments later, the syringe was filled with blood.

Lin Si swiftly withdrew the needle, and Seth took the vial for testing.

The series of actions were neatly done in one go, without even doing the preparatory work you’d usually do to a normal person before drawing blood. There was no blood seeping from the tip of the needle, only a small inconspicuous red dot.

Ling Yi was dumbfounded.

Then, large tears welled up and rolled down his cheeks. He stared at Lin Si in disbelief, his expression a mixture of anger and grievance.

Lin Si scrutinized him coolly.

Ling Yi began crying harder. With his delicate features and youthful appearance, his sobs were so heart-wrenching that it felt like he could shatter anyone’s resolve.

――Except, of course, for Lin Si, who had turned around and walked away.

Ling Yi watched him walk out the door, trembling with rage. He sobbed a few times, his face full of tears.

It was painfully clear to everyone present that Ling Yi had completely sworn enmity against Lin Si—though he was also too afraid to retaliate.

They had also begun to discern Ling Yi’s temperament. Despite the startling changes brought on by his physical mutation, Ling Yi himself seemed unaware of his potential and thus did not lose control. The initial aggressive behavior from his awakening was unlikely to recur. Nevertheless, an issue remained: the boy displayed an emotional detachment. Except when interacting with Lin Si or being near Lucia, he showed no reaction to the others—treating them with utter indifference, as if they were lifeless dolls.

Lucia projected a three-dimensional hologram of herself to teach Ling Yi basic knowledge, such as how to open nutrient packs, walk, and dress himself.

Her humanoid avatar resembled a blonde, blue-eyed knight in white armor, radiating an aura of valor and sanctity. As the sole “female” presence aboard the ship, she was universally adored.

“Goddess Lucia,” Seth said reverently, “May I take a photo with you?”

Leaning on her greatsword, Lucia replied flatly, “Permission denied.”

On the other side, Ling Yi walked over, calling out, “Lucia.” He was still not fully accustomed to walking, his steps slightly stiff yet carrying a certain cautious elegance.

Lucia turned to approach him.

Seth, dejected, resigned himself to his low-ranking position on the permission chain.

One of his companions suddenly exclaimed, “Wait a second—I just remembered something. Weren’t Dr. Lin’s human test subjects randomly selected from military cryo-pods? How is there such a young kid among them?”

Seth replied, “Maybe it’s some dark secret about the ticket system. Back then, Earth’s top elites might have smuggled children onto the ships. Not everyone was as principled as Marshal Sius, who could even leave behind his own wife and child.”

“That’s almost impossible,” another interjected. “You all know how strict the selection process was back then. Apart from the Marshal and Madam Chen, no one could influence who boarded the ships. They were both notorious for their unyielding principles. In fact, it’s said that Madam Chen once wanted to give up her ticket to Dr. Ye Selin out of sympathy—just because the quotas couldn’t be expanded. So, this little one must have some extraordinary reason for being here.”

The chatting time soon ended, and they figured that he wouldn’t be aggressive for no reason. With Lucia’s help, Ling Yi no longer needed several people to watch, observe and record his data together.

They had to clean up the mess of the black hole accident as soon as possible and keep detailed records of the damage of each lab so they could apply for supplies from Zone 2 after returning to the “Voyager”. It was also necessary to reinforce and protect the precious instruments and experimental materials that weren’t damaged to prevent further thrashing.

As for the 3% chance of returning to the Voyager, it was slim, but it existed. Yet, as days passed, their situation grew increasingly dire. Energy supplies dwindled, their stocks of nutrient packs and water ran low, and navigating the black hole became ever more perilous. The intersecting force field maps were a deadly maze—one misstep and they would be pulverized.

At times, Lucia’s holographic projection would stand by Ling Yi one moment and distort or disappear the next. It was because the computational load required to maintain her presence was too high to run concurrently with other programs.

Lin Si stared at the countdown.

Oxygen, temperature control and gravity systems have been lowered to the point where they could barely sustain life. As they traversed in the spaceship, not only were they dizzy and cold, they were also floating.

The young crew members staggered over at Lucia’s notification, bumping into walls as they assembled. Lin Si, seated behind a table, wore a long black coat. On the screen behind him, the countdown read:

Time until energy depletion: 29 minutes, 46 seconds.

A few nutrient packs lay on the table. Seth floated over, his eyes vacant. “Dinner—the last supper. Lord Jesus, we don’t even have enough people for a full table.”

Lin Si’s expression remained flat. “Mary is about to bring Judas over.”

Seth glanced down the corridor. “How could he be Judas? He’s obviously a little angel.”

The “little angel” wore a white shirt slightly too big for him, its cuffs rolled up to reveal slender, pale ankles beneath his pants. He looked like a doll—albeit one with a bad temper. He walked beside Lucia, deliberately glaring at the wall instead of looking at Lin Si.

Strangely enough, he seemed unaffected by the lack of gravity.

Lin Si marked two stars under “motor coordination” on his chart.

As Ling Yi joined them, the corridor lights went out, leaving only this room illuminated to conserve energy.

“Everyone’s here. First,” Lin Si adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses, “let’s ask this little friend: Did you pull out the cat grass I planted in the beakers?”

Ling Yi didn’t speak.

“Not admitting it means defaulting to yes.” Lin Si clicked his tongue. “Next question: Did you pull them out for fun, or was it a form of indirect revenge against me?”

Ling Yi could now understand many sentences, but this one was too complex for him. All he knew was that this detestable person was playing a trick on him!

“Not answering defaults to the second option,” Lin Si said with a faint, amused smile. “Today’s nutrient pack will have no sugar.”

This statement was simple and easy to understand.

Ling Yi was on the verge of tears again.

Lin Si coldly commanded, “Come here.”

Ling Yi looked to Lucia for help, but she remained unresponsive. Based on his observations over the past few days, everyone had to obey Lin Si’s orders. Reluctantly, he shuffled over.

To his surprise, Lin Si didn’t jab him with needles or do anything unpleasant. Instead, he reached out and buttoned the top two buttons of Ling Yi’s shirt.

His fingers brushed Ling Yi’s skin, causing the little one to flinch.

Lin Si’s voice carried a low, amused undertone. “Are you that afraid of me?”

Ling Yi turned his face away, refusing to look at him.

Lin Si glanced at Seth and the others.

The youngsters knew that Lin Si had deliberately teased Ling Yi just now, and catching Seth’s previous “Last Supper” joke was to lighten the atmosphere.

The countdown ticked down to 23 minutes and 14 seconds.

Lin Si tapped the table with his knuckles. “Barring any miracles, we’re about to die.”

“Although you’re all staunch materialists, I hope your souls will find their way home.”

“To make your departure a little more pleasant, I’ll allow you to add sugar to your nutrient packs.”

Seth weakly picked up a pack. “Dr. Lin, may your soul also return home.”

The others followed suit, raising their packs. “May our souls return home.”

One pack remained on the table.

Ling Yi didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he knew that the last pack would definitely be taken by the detestable Lin Si.

Sure enough, Lin Si picked it up, but then he handed it to Ling Yi, saying indifferently, “This one’s sweet.”

Ling Yi held the cool nutrient pack in his hand, momentarily at a loss.