The people of Zixing had seen the most beautiful fireworks—the moment Zixing exploded. In the carriage, countless individuals openly wept, helplessly watching as their homeland turned into crimson dust and was gradually swallowed by the expanding sun.
"We'll never return."
"Does anyone even know where we're heading now?"
"Who has some fever-reducing medicine? She's burning up."
In the rear section of the tenth carriage, Lilith's face turned cyanotic,trembling uncontrollably in the arms of her classmate Elena. Though the train's air conditioning maintained a suitable temperature, Lilith's lungs had been severely damaged earlier, and she had inhaled a massive amount of hot gas, causing significant internal injuries. Wilson and others rushed over, frantically laying Lilith flat across the seats.
"Her breathing is erratic. Bad—she might have lung damage. What do we do? Is there a doctor here?" Wilson shouted for what felt like ages, even coughing up blood-tinged saliva, but no one responded. After such a traumatic upheaval, everyone was too absorbed in self-preservation to care about others.
"Wilson, what's wrong with you?" Kairo asked in alarm.
Wilson chuckled darkly: "Some bastard rammed into me when we boarded. No big deal. Let's check further ahead—there must be doctors around."
Before they could leave, a robot entered the aisle. Its eyes scanned the group to verify identities.
Jasper, terrified, pleaded: "We didn't break any rules! This girl's dying—can you save her?"
The robot was a service model, meaning it excelled in basic functions, including medical treatment. As students watched in terror, the robot extracted a hypodermic needle and injected Lilith's arm.
"Sleep will help. Take this—now." The robot handed Wilson a blue pill.
Wilson hesitated but swallowed it, his chest pain easing almost instantly. "Huh—it's working. Feels like cool air flowing through me. Hey, are these robots stewards? Terrific service."
Other passengers, emboldened, made their own demands:
"I don't feel well—can I get meds too?"
"I'm starving—is there food?"
"I'm thirsty—can I get water?"
"Where's the restroom?"
The robot replied curtly:
"The train provides no supplies; passengers must rely on their own. Drinking water is available at hundreds of stations per carriage—no waste allowed. Restrooms are everywhere; public relieving is prohibited."
A man protested: "But why did *they* get meds?"
The robot's eyes flashed red, and its shoulder-mounted laser charger whirred to life. The man cowered, shrinking back.
...
"Pull up Lilith and Wilson's vitals." Relieved to see both stabilizing, Damian turned his attention to the external view. The stars stretched infinitely in all directions as the train hurtled through nebulae at one-tenth the speed of light. Despite such velocity, the train held firm—Damian marveled at its technology.
"Fuyao, could you replicate this train with enough materials?"
[This train is irreplicable.]
"Fine, just asking. Where can we resupply?"
[Numerous resource planets lie nearby, but prioritize finding habitable worlds to ensure passenger survival.]
Since the train carried passengers, Damian couldn't let them starve. He opened the star map—the nearest habitable world was three light-years away.
"Three light-years? By then, everyone'll be skeletons."
[The star chart is outdated; it only logs super-lifeforms. Lower-tier habitable planets aren't recorded.]
"How far can the train's sensors scan?"
[Onboard high-precision radar covers ten billion kilometers with <30 million km error, response time ~5 seconds.]
"Maximize scan range—find habitable worlds ASAP." Damian knew most passengers had fled in panic, with no time to stock supplies. Not everyone enjoyed his luxury.
...
The journey through space dragged on. Damian initially fascinated himself with stellar data until realizing Fuyao instantaneously analyzed everything. "Bored after half a day—what a life." He retreated to his quarters, booting up personal movies.
[Detecting owner boredom—recommend acquiring human pets.]
"Humans? Maybe alien species later. Hey—what's behind the training room?"
If the train's front was forward, the gym lay to the right, beyond which sprawled mystery. Damian investigated, following Fuyao as it unlocked reinforced doors. The area spanned thousands of square meters, filled with cages of all sizes and minimalist rooms.
[This is your pet zone—suitable for housing various creatures for entertainment.]
"...Thoughtful."
Past the pet wing, an observation deck emerged. Here, a floating platform could lift Damian to the train's roof, offering real starscapes. But the train's speed blurred details. He pounded the reinforced ceiling, worried it might shatter. "Not fun—let's bail."
Damian returned to the living deck, Zixing-style lounge complete with sofas and museum-looted antiques.
"Are those bedrooms for guests?"
[Reminder: Bedrooms reserved for family.]
"Considerate. Should I invite Lilith crew?" He paused. "No—trust isn't that high."
After exploring, he returned upstairs to movie-watch in solitude. By evening, monotony set in.
Day 1, Recovery Calendar Year 1, Month 1, Day 2, 07:33:25.**
"Anyone got food? Spare some!" The drinking fountain queue stretched endlessly; starving passengers nursed water, while stashers hoarded rations. Marcus bellowed: "Respect your elders! You youngsters can tough it out—old bones can't! Boy—sharing that bread?" All professorial dignity abandoned, survival reigned supreme. No one knew how long the train would roam—days, weeks? Most would starve.
A young man near the windows drew Marcus's ire—he'd been eating bread. The youth hastily swallowed, shielding the rest. Marcus fumed: "Civilization collapsed! Manners gone!"
Nearby, rowdy men cornered a couple with a child. "Hand over your stash—saw it." The wife pleaded: "It's for our son! Please—" The seven-year-old clung to his father, trembling. The men lunged—but the child accidentally pressed a wall-mounted alert button.
Wail of sirens*—enforcement robots arrived, crimson eyes scanning. "Who triggered the alarm?" The father raised a shaky hand. "They're stealing from us!"
The robot intoned: "Rules prohibit fighting, theft. First offense: lockdown. Second: punishment. Third: termination." The thugs were dragged off to external brig cells, minimum three-hour sentences.
Post-incident, chatter erupted: "A train conductor? Alien, surely." "What's their gender preference? I'd volunteer!" "Robot-guarded restricted area near landing pad—conductor's lair?" Word spread swiftly; within hours,tenth carriage buzzed.
"Lilith, your beauty—perfect for winning the conductor's favor!" Wilson joked, earning a punch.
"Save energy," she muttered. Students, equally starved, slumped or nursed water. A girl noted Lilith's distant gaze: "Thinking of Damian?" She shook her head, lips cracked: "Not really—just… what a waste. He predicted Zixing's collapse; could've been a great scientist. Pity he didn't escape."
"Don't give up—he might be on another train! Reunion's possible!" Lilith bitterly laughed: "In endless galaxies? Unlikely. At least… he wasn't with Li Ai. Strange—I felt relieved yesterday…"