Chapter 43: Silence

The space-based radar inside the cosmic station also detected the newly appeared anomaly—a 2.5-ton object hurtling toward the station at a speed of eleven kilometers per second. Previously, caught unprepared, the station’s response had been to segment itself into several sections, abandon the area destined for impact, leave several compartments in the middle as buffers, and concentrate both personnel and vital data in the cabins farthest from the collision zone.

However, the new anomaly expanded the impact area, further reducing the number of buffer compartments.

As the red zone on the screen grew, Ren Kujou, who had just completed maintenance on the backup circuit, returned to the living module and stared at the virtual 3D map of the station, lost in thought.

This newly added impact zone was separated from the safe area by three connecting modules—one docking chamber and two airlock cabins. The docking chamber served as the exit for astronauts venturing into space, while the airlock cabins on either side functioned as pressurization or depressurization buffers during ingress and egress.

Ren pondered, then enlarged the 3D image, prompting the interface to display secondary information.

Suddenly, his eyes widened; he whirled around and shot out of the living module!

His movement, amidst the flurry of researchers darting in and out for repairs, seemed ordinary—except to those who watched closely, where it was remarkably conspicuous.

As he left, Nanai Kujou quietly followed.

Thus, both missed the extraordinary sight outside the station windows: two giants, one silver and one red, intercepting the rocket’s main body.

On one side, the main body—a five-hundred-ton mass—was traveling at ten kilometers per second; on the other, the third-stage rocket, accelerating to twelve kilometers per second and still gaining speed, weighed only 2.5 tons.

Faced with a choice, Zoffy hesitated only briefly before decisively heading for the rocket’s main body.

Had he chosen to intercept the third-stage rocket, his current strength would not suffice to alter or slow the trajectory of the massive main body in time. It would still strike the station at significant velocity; even any attempt to change its course might only accelerate its impact. The collision was inevitable—only the location would shift.

As for destroying the rocket outright? Not even Yuki had dared hope for such a feat. The M87 Ray was indeed formidable; it could obliterate not just a small rocket but the entire Earth. Yet, upon closer reflection, Yuki realized this was impossible. If the "Captain of the Water Squad" before him was truly Zoffy, what crisis could possibly compel the commander of the Cosmic Defense Force to abandon his duties, parachute into Earth's orbit, and act alone, bereft of any subordinates?

The very idea was absurd. No matter how inept a writer, none would pen such a script.

Yuki, lacking sufficient intelligence, could only conclude from limited clues that the captain and Zoffy were distinct individuals. Perhaps there existed some shared traits—common information or consciousness—but in terms of power, any similarity would be strictly limited.

He... might not be "fully" Captain Zoffy.

To witness him transform into a giant of light was already an unexpected blessing.

And so, as Zoffy made contact with the rocket’s main body and attempted to push it off its trajectory, the station’s space-based radar registered the alteration in the movement of the massive rocket.

The dotted line marking the predicted flight path of the rocket’s main body began to shift. Originally, it cut through the station’s central axis; now, it was slowly moving toward the rear experimental modules.

Inside the living module, the researchers instinctively abandoned their work, crowding before the few available windows to witness the sudden apparition of the giant.

“That is—?!”

“Oh my God!”

“Wow!”

Mouths gaped; exclamations of awe erupted in myriad languages. At that moment, the giant bathed in light was their savior. Some quickly whipped out their tablets, pressing them against the window to record the astounding scene.

“Rumble—!!”

Suddenly, the speakers blared a shocking alarm; after a violent tremor lasting three seconds, a deafening explosion followed.

“Damn!”

“FxxK!”

A chorus of curses replaced the previous astonishment.

Everyone forgot that the station faced not only the five-hundred-ton behemoth.

There was another anomaly, always present on the radar, yet out of sight.

The third-stage rocket’s 2.5-ton body scraped past the upper edge of Docking Chamber Two, spun once, and continued forward. But it exploded violently shortly thereafter, striking Docking Chamber Two from the other side. The blast shock propagated through the station’s hull, reverberating everywhere.

The explosion’s roar and violent tremor scattered the crowd at the windows; researchers flew off in all directions, colliding with stacks of experimental data, carts, mountains of lab materials, or the cabin walls before coming to rest.

Alarms blared in succession, filling the space with a cacophony that left the researchers agitated and confused. No one noticed the warning of abnormal pressure in Docking Chamber Three and adjacent airlock cabins N1 and N2. Meanwhile, the living module’s life support system had auto-activated, beginning to pressurize the cabin.

At that moment, Ren and Nanai Kujou—husband and wife—were battling hurricane-force turbulence, desperately clutching a cabin door wrenched open by pressure differential.

When Ren realized the predicted impact trajectory would pass through Docking Chamber Two—near the very Docking Chamber Three he’d just discovered had sealing issues—he knew disaster was imminent.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem; Docking Chamber Two was always a buffer zone, already sealed. But if the buffer zone took a direct hit, the resulting shock or explosion could affect Docking Chamber Three nearby. Its imperfectly sealed door might be ripped open instantly by the pressure difference between the station’s interior and the vacuum outside!

His solution was to close the N1 airlock cabin’s entrance and evacuate the air from Docking Chamber Three to zero pressure.

Transfer the sealing responsibility to N1’s intact door, leaving Docking Chamber Three open.

Determined, he turned—and found Nanai had arrived as well.

Ren’s heart surged with anxiety and anger; he urged Nanai to retreat. If one were outside the situation, one would know now was not the time to argue, but in the midst of crisis, no one wants their loved one to risk their life. Nanai barely had time to respond before the impact struck, nearly knocking them both unconscious.

Once they recovered from the shock, they found themselves caught in intensifying turbulence.

Docking Chamber Three’s door had warped from the transmitted impact; what was once a minuscule flaw now became a gaping fissure, as if immense hands were forcibly tearing it open. The pressure differential produced a powerful airflow, causing further deformation. Eventually, the door shifted, misaligning with its circular frame, exposing a gap a meter wide; even the hinges twisted into surreal shapes.

There was no time to act. The two could only grab the wide-open N1 airlock cabin door, striving to close it—otherwise, the living module’s pressure would plummet rapidly, threatening everyone’s lives!

But facing the gale from the living module behind, trying to pull the heavy door shut, their combined strength barely moved it. In zero gravity, the act of pulling a door was already difficult, not to mention each of them held onto a wall handle with one hand, the other clutching the door, muscles taut as they tried to bring the two sides together—a posture inherently unable to exert effective force.

At such times, intuitive understanding was hardly a blessing...

Ren decisively let go, crawling along the handle into Docking Chamber Three; turning, he saw Nanai follow. Their eyes met for perhaps a second, maybe less.

But faced with such peril, the two brilliant researchers had the same idea—

If pulling was impossible, only pushing remained.

From the other side, push the door closed.

Ren braced his foot against the handle, pressed his hands to the door, veins bulging on his forehead as he strained to push. Yet within seconds, his strength faltered—he couldn’t breathe.

The intense airflow left him gasping; suffocating, his body could hardly muster any force.

Nanai saw his distress, lowered her body, crawled along the cabin wall toward the fissure that seemed to mock their recklessness, and, following the airflow, leapt up.

Nanai—!!

A blur of blue passed in Ren’s peripheral vision; as he pressed against the door, he turned, unable even to reach out.

Under the wind’s pressure, the familiar figure in the blue researcher’s uniform crashed into the gap, emitting a cringe-inducing noise. Her body, squeezed by the pressure difference, distorted and blocked most of the breach, immediately reducing airflow in the docking chamber.

Nanai! ...!!

Watching his wife’s body about to be forcibly extruded through the fissure in an unnatural contortion, Ren’s eyes nearly burst; he summoned all his strength, uttered a hoarse, incoherent roar, and slammed the door shut with a bang!

He pressed the lock. Drenched in sweat, Ren struggled to look at the wall screen; his vision blurred, seeing only the green glow of “Locked.”

Was it sweat in his eyes?

Ren gradually weakened, sliding down the cabin wall, carried by the last whiff of escaping airflow to land beside Nanai.

For a moment, silence reigned in the docking chamber.