238: An Interlude at the Start of the Journey and the Birth of the "Space Farmer"

The "Ark" hovered outside Dock 3 of the "Homeland" space station, its engines maintaining a low-power pulse, like a giant beast breathing quietly in the darkness.

The newly applied protective coating on the hull shimmered with a matte gray under the station's artificial sunlight—this was the latest achievement of Evelyn's team, infused with phase-shifting particles resolved from the zeta beacon, theoretically capable of dampening the "Perception" of "Entropy".

The farewell ceremony was brief to the point of being hasty.

Wang Jianguo did not board the bridge, but instead held a final three-minute conversation with Excellence through an encrypted channel.

The old man's holographic image flickered slightly beside the command seat; the office bookshelf behind him was meticulously tidy, but Excellence noticed that "Principles of Deep Space Navigation"—the book Wang Jianguo read most often—was not in its usual place.

"All data packets have been transmitted, including all historical records related to 'The Weave' in the 'Homeland' database, some of which are... decrypted for the first time."

Wang Jianguo's voice maintained the calmness peculiar to researchers, but his speaking pace was half a beat slower than usual. "Evelyn will help you organize the key parts. Remember, knowledge is a weapon, but it is also a burden. The more you know, the harder it is to maintain the 'courage of the ignorant'."

Excellence nodded.

He was wearing a brand-new captain's uniform; on the Deep Blue fabric, the emblem of the "Ark" was embroidered on the left chest—a planet surrounded by seven arcs.

Below the emblem was a line of small text: Seventh Captain.

He was the youngest commander in the history of this legendary starship.

"Uncle Wang," Excellence said, using the address from his childhood, "If... if we fail to repair 'The Weave'..."

"Then just try your best to make it collapse slower." Wang Jianguo interrupted him, his gaze like a torch. "Buy time for 'Homeland', buy time for the construction of subsequent ships, buy time for the backup and transfer of civilization. The universe is vast; there are always some corners that the tentacles of 'Entropy' have not yet reached."

There was silence in the channel for a few seconds, with only the background static.

"Excellence," Wang Jianguo said finally, his voice suddenly softening, "If your mother were still alive, she would be proud of you. I am too."

The communication cut off.

Excellence stood in the center of the bridge, taking a deep breath.

The air provided by the ecological circulation system carried a faint smell of ozone and the fresh scent of plants—the smell emitted by a batch of improved lettuce just harvested from the Ecological Garden.

He forced himself to pull his thoughts away from the heaviness of parting and turn to the responsibilities before him.

"All-hands status report," he said, his voice steady.

Su Mu turned from the security console: "All crew members are in position, and psychological indices are all in the green range. The 'The Whisper' samples in the isolation chamber have been double-sealed, and the security team is on twenty-four-hour rotation."

Evelyn's holographic projection appeared beside the tactical star map: "All system self-checks are complete, upgrade module integration is 97.3%, within the acceptable deviation range. The jump engine is charged to the critical point and can be activated at any time."

Li Wei stood half a step to the side of Excellence—this was requested by the old captain himself; he was now a "Special Advisor," responsible for providing experiential guidance when necessary.

The old man nodded slightly, indicating he had no additions.

"Set course for the seventh observation point on the periphery of the 'Singularity Corridor'," Excellence ordered. "Initiate Level 1 silence protocol, all non-essential communications transferred to directional laser transmission. We are departing."

"Course set."

"Engines starting."

"silence protocol in effect."

The main thrusters at the rear of the "Ark" spewed a ghostly blue ion stream several kilometers long, and the hull slowly accelerated, breaking away from the gravity range of the space station.

Looking back through the observation window, "Homeland" gradually shrank into a string of light beads suspended in the darkness, finally connecting into a blurred spot of light, and was eventually completely swallowed by the veil of deep space.

The bridge fell into the quiet peculiar to a working state, with only the low hum of instruments and the occasional report from operators.

Excellence stared at the navigation star map on the main screen; the preset route was like a slender golden thread, piercing into a deep space region that humanity had never truly explored.

The place marked as the "Singularity Corridor" at the end of the route had no detailed data, only a constantly flashing red warning sign.

The real journey had begun.

This time, there was no clear date of return.

The jump lasted eighteen hours.

When the "Ark" popped out of hyperspace and re-entered conventional space, it was already seventy-five light-years away from the "Homeland" system.

This was the edge of human survey range; beyond this, there were only theoretical calculations and ancient legends on the star map.

The atmosphere on the ship changed subtly.

The tragic solemnity at the time of departure gradually settled during the long jump process, transforming into a more complex state—a bit like soldiers waiting for the charge in the trenches, knowing the danger ahead, but gaining a sense of relief because "it has finally come."

Excellence keenly perceived this shift in group psychology.

"Execute 'semi-rest' protocol," he ordered at the first all-hands meeting after the jump ended. "Except for essential posts, all crew members are on a rotation system, ensuring at least six hours of non-working time and eight hours of sleep per day. The psychological counseling room is open all day, and usage restrictions on the entertainment area are lifted."

Su Mu raised her eyebrows: "Are you sure? We are less than three weeks away from the 'Singularity Corridor', and you want to relax now..."

"Precisely because there is a tough battle ahead, we need to conserve energy now," Excellence said, his gaze sweeping over the department heads in the conference room. "A taut string will break. The Carter incident taught us that psychological defenses are just as important as physical defenses. I want a team that remains resilient when they reach the battlefield, not a group of soldiers who are already mentally fatigued."

Evelyn pulled up a set of data: "According to historical combat case analysis, troops that immediately enter combat after long-term high-pressure navigation have a 42% higher error rate than troops with proper rest. I support the captain's decision."

The resolution was passed.

At first, the crew was a bit unaccustomed to it.

Many people still ran to the work area during their break time and were "chased" back to the living area by duty supervisors.

The holographic cinema in the entertainment area opened three screenings, with very few viewers.

The gym equipment was quite popular—in space, maintaining muscle mass is a serious survival requirement, but that kind of sweaty exercise felt more like venting anxiety than relaxing.

The change began on the fifth day.

At dinner that day, Excellence looked at the synthetic nutrient paste on his plate—it was standard long-range voyage food, nutritionally comprehensive, uniform in texture, safe and stable, but also despairingly monotonous.

The pale yellow paste had an artificially modulated "chicken flavor," but in reality, it had no taste at all; the brain was simply told "this is chicken flavor."

Ecological Garden supervisor Chen Yu happened to be sitting at the next table.

This forty-year-old agronomy expert had joined the mission voluntarily; she had managed the entire space station's ecological circulation system while at "Homeland," and after boarding the ship, she was responsible for maintaining the relatively small Ecological Garden on the "Ark".

"Sister Chen," Excellence poked the nutrient paste with a spoon, "What are we mainly planting in the Ecological Garden now?"

Chen Yu looked up, a little surprised that the captain would ask this: "Basic leafy vegetables, lettuce, spinach, bok choy, and a small amount of strawberries and tomatoes. It's mainly for oxygen circulation and psychological comfort; the yield is only enough to provide one fresh salad per person per week."

"Can't we grow more of something else? Like food crops?"

"Space and energy are both limited." Chen Yu explained, "The design priority of the 'Ark' is combat and scientific research, and the Ecological Garden only occupies a small part of Deck C. And..." She lowered her voice, "In the original design, long-distance voyages mainly relied on nutrient paste and recycled synthetic food; the Ecological Garden was more of a 'psychological safety valve'—seeing green plants makes people feel like they are still living in a normal environment."

Excellence nodded thoughtfully.

After eating, he did not return to the bridge, but asked Chen Yu to take him to the Ecological Garden.

The Ecological Garden on Deck C was an enclosed space about fifty meters long and twenty meters wide, covered by a transparent high-strength polymer dome.

The simulated daylight system adjusted brightness and spectrum according to a twenty-four-hour cycle; it was currently "afternoon," and soft golden light spilled over rows of neat cultivation racks.

The air was more humid than elsewhere on the ship, carrying the scent of soil and plants.

Several crew members working here stood up a bit stiffly when they saw the captain enter.

"Relax, I'm just here to take a look." Excellence waved his hand and walked to a tomato plant that was bearing fruit.

The ruddy fruits hung between the branches and leaves, only the size of ping-pong balls, but the color was pleasingly bright.

Chen Yu followed him: "This is an improved 'space dwarf' variety, with a short growth cycle and relatively low requirements for light and nutrients. But the yield is still limited, mainly..."

"Mainly because the symbolic significance is greater than the practical significance." Excellence took over, his fingers gently touching the smooth skin of the tomato. "Sister Chen, what if we could grow crops with higher yields, faster growth, and even the ability to adapt to the special environment on the ship?"

Chen Yu was stunned: "Theoretically... if we could solve the limitations of light, nutrients, and space... but Captain, we are on a warship, not a research vessel. The priority of the Ecological Garden is ranked very low in the system."

"Priorities can be adjusted." Excellence said, his eyes beginning to shine. "Evelyn, pull up the data on life energy regulation and microscopic matter reconstruction from the zeta beacon and gamma beacon. Also, I need all the technical parameters of the Ecological Garden and the genetic profile of the current crops."

Evelyn's voice came through the personal terminal: "Data retrieval in progress. Excellence, I must remind you that there are risks in conducting genetic modification experiments on a spaceship, especially when involving beacon energy manipulation."

"I know." Excellence was already conceiving a plan in his mind. "But we have the strictest biological containment system, and..." He looked at the lush green plants, "We need some changes, Sister Chen. Not just for better food, but for morale."

Su Mu heard about Excellence's "new hobby" at dinner and put down her spoon with a complicated expression: "Are you serious? On the way to a decisive battle with a universe-level threat, you want to start a space farm?"

"Why not?" Excellence retorted, revealing a rare bit of youthful stubbornness. "The essence of 'Entropy' is chaos and disorder, a denial of life and creation. Then we will create life, create Order, and create growth right under its nose. Isn't this itself a form of confrontation?"

Su Mu opened her mouth, but actually couldn't find a rebuttal.

Evelyn's holographic image appeared beside the dining table, analyzing rationally: "From a psychological perspective, participating in planting and harvesting activities can effectively reduce the anxiety and depression index of long-term voyages. From a practical perspective, if crop yields are successfully increased, reliance on synthetic nutrient paste can be reduced; the latter may cause micronutrient imbalances if consumed long-term. From a tactical perspective... well, there is no tactical angle here."

"Then let's treat it as a captain's privilege project." Excellence said with a smile. "Sister Evelyn, help me with safety monitoring and data analysis. Sister Chen is responsible for agronomic guidance. Su Mu..."

"I'm responsible for burning it to ashes when you create a plant that eats people." Su Mu said unhappily, but the corners of her mouth were already curled up.

The "Space Farm Project" began just like that. There was no official approval, no resource requisition; it was entirely conducted by Excellence using his captain's authority and his own "spare time." After the news spread among the crew, reactions were mixed: some thought it was nonsense, some watched with curiosity, and some even volunteered to help.

But everyone agreed on one thing: seeing the young captain, in between commanding the overall situation, still able to enthusiastically tinker with seeds and soil, possessed a strange, calming power in itself.

Chapter 4: The Birth of the Lettuce Tree

The first experiment chose the most basic butter lettuce.

Excellence's idea was straightforward: make the lettuce grow faster, larger, and more resistant to storage. He marked out a three-meter square area in the Ecological Garden's isolated experimental zone, which had an independent air circulation and radiation shielding system, so that even if the experiment went out of control, it wouldn't affect the main Ecological Garden.

"First is Energy Programming," Excellence explained to the small group watching—besides Chen Yu, Su Mu, and Evelyn (remotely), there were also two crew members with botany backgrounds who had volunteered to help.

He took out ten lettuce seeds and placed them in a specialized petri dish. These seeds had already undergone basic processing and were in a dormant state. Excellence closed his eyes and mobilized the power of the beacons within him—not all of it, just the gamma beacon's knowledge regarding material structure, and the zeta beacon's Perception regarding the flow of life energy.

A golden halo emerged from his palms, gently enveloping the seeds. Within that light, countless tiny geometric shapes seemed to be flickering and recombining, as if writing some kind of code at the level of life.

"I am strengthening the seed's cell division instructions, while simultaneously adjusting its energy absorption efficiency," Excellence said in a low voice, beads of sweat seeping from his forehead. "Theoretically, this can allow it to increase its growth rate by three to five times under the same light and nutrient conditions, and..."

He hesitated for a moment.

"And what?" Chen Yu asked nervously, holding a recording pad in her hand.

"And I want it to learn to... store excess energy and quickly call upon it when needed," Excellence opened his eyes, the light fading. "Just like how animals hoard fat for the winter. This way, even if it encounters insufficient light or nutrient fluctuations, it can still maintain growth."

Evelyn's voice came through the speaker: "Warning: Introducing animal-like energy regulation mechanisms to plants may lead to unpredictable phenotypic expression. Suggest testing gradually."

"Let's plant them first and see," Excellence handed the processed seeds to Chen Yu.

The planting process was routine. The seeds were carefully buried in prepared nutrient substrate and connected to automatic irrigation and lighting systems. The parameters for the experimental zone were set to be completely identical to the main Ecological Garden to facilitate comparison.

On the first day, there were no abnormalities. The seeds in both the treatment group and the control group lay quietly in the soil.

On the second day, the seeds of the treatment group sprouted first; tender green cotyledons broke through the soil, twelve hours earlier than the control group.

On the third day, the differences began to show. The lettuce seedlings in the treatment group grew at a speed visible to the naked eye; the speed at which their leaves unfurled could almost be described as "expanding." By the end of the day, they had already reached the size of the control group after a week.

"This is amazing," Chen Yu recorded the data, her voice filled with excitement and a hint of unease. "The growth rate has increased by... eight times? And both leaf thickness and chlorophyll content are significantly higher than the control group."

Su Mu stood outside the observation window with her arms crossed: "I hope it's just growing fast, and not growing into something else."

On the fourth day, things started to go wrong.

When the crew member on duty in the early morning issued an emergency call, Excellence was presiding over a routine meeting on the bridge. When he rushed to the Ecological Garden, this was the scene he saw:

Inside the transparent cover of the isolated experimental zone, those ten lettuce plants had already grown to nearly the height of a person. Their stalks were as thick as small trees, their leaves thick and hard, with edges shimmering with a metallic luster. Even more eerie was that there were no signs of their growth stopping; the main trunks were still thickening at a rate of several millimeters per minute.

"Energy readings are abnormal," Evelyn reported. "These plants are actively absorbing environmental radiation, and even... weakly absorbing energy from the experimental zone's shield. They are modifying their own cellulose structure; the degree of lignification has already reached the level of an arbor."

"Can it be stopped?" Excellence asked.

"Attempting to cut off external energy supply," Chen Yu operated the control panel, turning off the light and nutrient solution delivery to the experimental zone.

Then they saw an even more astonishing scene: the lettuce plants—which should now be called "lettuce trees"—began to emit a soft fluorescence from their leaves, which was them mobilizing stored internal energy to maintain life activities. Moreover, their root systems were growing wildly, penetrating the nutrient substrate, attempting to find other energy sources.

"They are... struggling to survive," a botany crew member murmured. "A strong survival instinct—this shouldn't be something plants possess."

Excellence stared at those still-growing plants and suddenly realized where the problem lay: "In the Energy Programming I input, the instructions regarding 'energy storage and retrieval' might be coupled too tightly with the instinct of 'maintaining life.' They now equate 'growth' with 'survival,' so they will continue to grow at any cost."

Su Mu had already drawn a small cutter: "So what is the solution?"

"Physical removal," Excellence sighed. "They won't stop growing until they exhaust their stored energy. And if the root systems make contact with the ship's structure, it could theoretically cause damage."

The removal process was more difficult than imagined. The lettuce trees' leaves were as hard as light alloy, and the stalks required an engineering cutter to saw through. The sap that flowed out was an eerie silver-green, which rapidly solidified into a gel in the air. The entire process took three hours, and the cleared plant debris filled two large sealed containers.

In the end, the "stumps" of those ten lettuce trees were displayed in a corner of the Ecological Garden as a kind of... souvenir, or warning sign. Chen Yu labeled them: "First Generation Hyper-Speed Lettuce, growth cycle 4 days, final height 1.8 meters, 87% lignification. Lesson: Don't make plants want to live too much."

This failure became a joke among the crew. At dinner, as everyone looked at the synthetic nutrient paste on their plates, someone joked: "At least the nutrient paste won't grow into a tree."

Excellence was not discouraged. He wrote in that day's experimental log: "Reason for failure: Insufficient estimation of the complexity of biological systems. Energy Programming is not writing code; life will find its own unexpected ways of expression. Next time, more precise control is needed, along with establishing a feedback mechanism."

Su Mu commented below: "Next time, can you start by making something small that won't threaten the ship's safety?"

For the second experiment, Excellence chose tomatoes.

This time he adjusted his strategy. Instead of pursuing growth speed, he wanted to improve disease resistance and environmental adaptability. The theoretical basis was: if plants could actively identify and resist pathogens, it would reduce the use of chemical agents, making them more suitable for the ship's closed environment.

"This time I will add an 'identification mechanism'," Excellence explained to the team, "letting the plants sense common fungal and bacterial characteristics, and trigger local cellular reinforcement to isolate infections."

"How to make the plants 'identify'?" Chen Yu asked.

"Through energy field resonance," Excellence said. "Pathogens have specific energy characteristics; I can teach the plants to perceive these characteristics, just like... teaching it to recognize colors."

The experiment was also conducted in the isolated zone. This time, only five tomato seeds were used, and the Energy Programming process was more cautious. Excellence spent a full six hours adjusting the energy imprints bit by bit, ensuring that only the necessary identification and defense mechanisms were activated, without involving growth regulation.

The first two weeks went smoothly. The tomato seedlings grew healthily, blossomed, and set fruit. All five plants produced plump, green fruits that looked no different from ordinary tomatoes.

The problem appeared when the fruits began to change color.

That day, Chen Yu's assistant, Xiao Li, was recording data. As usual, he approached the plants and used a scanner to check the health of a leaf. Suddenly, the nearest tomato—already half-red and half-green, the size of a fist—suddenly detached from the branch; it wasn't a natural fall, but rather, as if launched, it shot straight toward Xiao Li's face!

"Ah!" Xiao Li tilted his head to dodge, the tomato flying past his ear and "bang" hitting the isolation cover, exploding into a puddle of red and green pulp.

Everyone was stunned.

Then, more tomatoes started "launching." They detached from the branches and shot at moving objects inside the isolation cover with unnatural speed and precision—mainly the nozzles of the automatic irrigation system, monitoring probes, and Xiao Li, who had unfortunately entered the "firing range."

"They have identified moving objects as threats!" Chen Yu exclaimed.

Evelyn quickly analyzed the data: "Not just moving objects. The targets they attack all have specific energy characteristics—metal, plastic, and also... biological electric fields. Excellence, your 'identification mechanism' has labeled all 'non-plant matter' as potential threats."

The isolated zone was already in a mess. The five tomato plants were like five small turrets, crazily launching fruits at every non-plant target. Some fruits even actively burst before impact, spraying seeds and sap in an attempt to "contaminate" the target.

"Turn off the lights! Cut off all energy supplies!" Excellence ordered.

The darkness and energy interruption caused the attacks to gradually cease. One hour later, when the lights came back on, the isolation zone was covered in tomato debris and sticky seeds. The five plants stood bare there, all their fruits having been "launched."

Su Mu stood with her arms crossed, watching the cleaning robot enter the isolation zone: "So now we have tomatoes that attack people. Excellence, are you developing new weapons for the Marines?"

Excellence scratched his head awkwardly: "Parameter setting error... I set the trigger threshold for the defense mechanism too low, and I didn't include 'friend-or-foe identification'..."

"Do they have names?" a watching crew member asked.

"Berserk Tomatoes," Su Mu said first. "Prohibited from eating, prohibited from approaching, prohibited from transplanting to the main Ecological Garden. Supervisor Chen, destroy all these seeds; not a single one can be left."

The "results" of this experiment were strictly sealed. But the story of the "Berserk Tomatoes" spread among the crew, and some even joked that a few should be kept as a "biological security system."

After two failures, Excellence actually settled his mind even more. He spent three days re-studying the beacon materials, especially the theories on self-organization and balance in biological systems. Chen Yu gave him a detailed proposal, pointing out that crop improvement should prioritize practical needs and safety, rather than pursuing "cool" functions.

For the third experiment, the goal returned to simplicity: to cultivate a leafy vegetable that could grow well in the ship's low-light environment, had high nutritional value, and could provide a little "extra benefit."

This time Excellence chose lettuce—but switched varieties, and the programming strategy was completely different. He no longer forcibly added new functions, but instead strengthened the lettuce's original characteristics: photosynthetic efficiency, nutrient synthesis ability, and... a little bit of bioluminescence potential.

"Many deep-sea creatures can glow, and some fungi can too," Excellence explained. "If we let the lettuce emit a faint light in a low-light environment, not only could it serve as supplemental lighting, but it could also... be quite pretty."

The Energy Programming this time was gentle and precise.

Excellence was like sculpting a work of art, adjusting the energy imprints bit by bit to ensure no uncontrollable mutations would be triggered.

After planting, he spent an hour every day in the experimental zone, not to manipulate energy, but just to observe, record, and feel the growth rhythm of the plants.

Two weeks later, it was a success.

The improved lettuce grew well in the simulated low-light environment, with leaves displaying a deep, dark green, and faint silver veins visible.

Most importantly, when the ambient light fell below a certain threshold, the leaves would actually emit a soft blue-white fluorescence, bright enough for reading, yet not dazzling.

Nutritional analysis showed that the Vitamin C and K content of this lettuce was 40% higher than the original variety, and it also contained a rare antioxidant compound.

In taste tests, the crew generally described it as "crispier and sweeter."

Chen Yu officially named it "starlight lettuce."

After the first harvest, the kitchen used it to make salads and distributed them to the whole ship.

At dinner that day, Ecological Garden-style lighting appeared on everyone's dinner plate—not a holographic projection, but real, glowing vegetables.

"Does this count as a success?" Su Mu picked up a piece of glowing lettuce, her expression complex. "We won't start glowing after eating this, right?"

"It shouldn't." Excellence took a large bite himself first. "The fluorescent substance is only in a specific layer of the cell wall and won't be absorbed by the digestive system."

Facts proved he was right.

The starlight lettuce was a huge hit, not only because of its practicality and deliciousness, but also because of its symbolic meaning—in the darkness of deep space, the plants they grew themselves could glow.

With the successful experience of the starlight lettuce, Excellence's confidence and skills both improved.

The subsequent experiments were more systematic.

The fourth crop was rice.

The staple food on the spaceship had always been synthetic starch and nutrient paste; if they could grow real grain, it would be a huge boost to morale and nutrition.

However, rice required a lot of water and space, and traditional cultivation methods were not realistic on the spaceship.

Excellence's plan was: to cultivate a dwarf, high-density, hydroponic-adapted variety.

He combined the material reconstruction technology of the gamma beacon to adjust the rice's plant type and root structure; he used the energy knowledge of the zeta beacon to optimize its photosynthetic pathway and nutrient transport efficiency.

The result was the cultivation of "moonlight rice"—the plant height was only one-third of regular rice, allowing for multi-layered vertical cultivation; the growth cycle was shortened by 35%; most specially, the rice grains would emit a fragrance similar to laurel after cooking, and tests showed that it could weakly absorb ionizing radiation from the environment during the growth process, converting it into harmless thermal energy.

After the first harvest, the kitchen used the moonlight rice to make rice.

The atmosphere on the ship that day was like a holiday.

Many people held their rice bowls, staring at those plump, pearl-lustrous grains, reluctant to take a bite.

"I haven't eaten real rice in three years," an old engineer said, his voice a bit choked up.

Su Mu took a bite and closed her eyes. "... It was worth it. Excellence, even if our mission fails in the end, at least you let everyone eat real rice in these final days."

The fifth crop was cucumber.

This time, Excellence wanted to solve the problem of psychological stress from long-term voyages.

He found a clue in the data from the zeta beacon: certain plants, under the influence of specific energy fields, would synthesize substances similar to neurotransmitters.

After careful design, he cultivated the "serene cucumber."

The appearance of this cucumber was no different from ordinary cucumbers, but the flesh contained trace amounts of L-theanine and GABA precursors—these two substances were proven to have mild sedative and anti-anxiety effects.

The key was that the content was very low, not affecting cognitive function, just making people feel "relaxed."

Su Mu made a cold salad with the serene cucumber, claiming it had "Captain's special stress-relief efficacy."

As a result, that plate of food was snatched up within five minutes, and for the following week, the kitchen received requests for "serene cucumber" every day.

The most interesting was the sixth experiment, and also the only one that was forcibly terminated.

Excellence had a sudden inspiration: if plants could "perceive" their surrounding environment, could they take care of each other?

For example, when one plant lacked water or was sick, could the plants next to it adjust their own growth to make space or resources for it?

Theoretically, this could be achieved through energy field resonance: there was already weak energy exchange between plants, and Excellence wanted to strengthen this exchange and add a simple "help-response" protocol.

He chose sunflowers—this plant had obvious phototropism, and its energy characteristics were also relatively clear.

The initial stage of the experiment looked very promising: two sunflowers were in the isolation zone, and when Excellence artificially blocked the light for one of them, the leaves of the other would slightly adjust their angle, as if "yielding" light.

But things quickly spiraled out of control.

That programmed sunflower—the crew later called it "sentry sunflower"—began to exhibit excessive "caring behavior."

It would gently pat nearby plants with its leaves (Excellence's original intent was "to detect plant status"), but it couldn't control its strength well, often snapping off tender buds.

At night, its energy activity would enter a periodic fluctuation similar to sleep, emitting a low, rhythmic humming sound, like it was snoring.

Worse yet, it started "patrolling."

Its roots moved slowly through the nutrient substrate, and vine-like stolons stretched everywhere, trying to "check" every single plant in the experimental zone.

One night shift, a patrolling crew member heard strange rubbing sounds and humming from the isolation zone, and when they shone a flashlight, they saw the sentry sunflower "stroking" a tomato plant with its leaves, while emitting a satisfied purring sound.

The crew member was so scared they immediately pressed the alarm.

When Su Mu arrived, the sentry sunflower had already "walked" to the other end of the isolation zone and was trying to open the ventilation grille with its vines—it might have detected airflow there, thinking some plants needed "ventilation."

"Enough." Su Mu drew her gun—not a live-ammunition weapon, but an engineering high-frequency vibration cutter. "Excellence, this thing has already exceeded the category of 'plant.' I'm going to destroy it."

"Wait, maybe it can be adjusted..." Excellence tried to save it.

"Last night it tried to 'comfort' a lettuce plant that was wilting due to lack of water by uprooting it and placing it next to itself." Su Mu was expressionless. "That lettuce died. Supervisor Chen said the cause of death was 'physical damage and energy interference caused by excessive care.'"

Excellence shut up.

The sentry sunflower was removed.

The experimental data was sealed and marked as "Dangerous: Prevent the Ecological Garden from becoming sentient."

But this story became the most popular anecdote on the ship, and some even suggested they should write an AI personality for the sentry sunflower to keep as a virtual pet.

Beneath the relaxed facade, shadows were gathering.

One week before the Ark entered the target star region, sensors began to capture abnormal readings.

The spatial curvature showed fluctuations that could not be explained by known celestial bodies, and strange frequencies were mixed into the background radiation, just like the universe was running a low fever.

The most obvious was the strengthening of The Whisper signal.

At first, it was just occasional interference, like distant static noise in the communication channels.

But gradually, that noise began to form patterns—not language, but a projection of certain emotions: cold desire, endless hunger, and hatred for Order and structure.

The stress index curve in the psychological monitoring room began to climb.

Although most crew members had passed anti-contamination training, continuous exposure to this kind of mental pollution was like standing in a cold wind for a long time; no matter how thick the clothes were, they would slowly be penetrated.

Su Mu strengthened psychological protection measures.

The whole ship conducted collective meditation twice a day, using the "cleansing frequency" developed by Excellence.

The rest areas played screened music and natural sound effects to suppress the influence of The Whisper.

starlight lettuce and serene cucumber were listed as "psychological support supplies" and prioritized for distribution to crew members with higher stress indices.

But the real test had not yet begun.

"Five days until we reach the scheduled observation point," Evelyn reported at the tactical meeting.

"Sensors have detected that the spatial structure ahead is extremely unstable, and conventional jumping is no longer feasible. We need to traverse about 0.3 light-years of the anomalous region at sub-light speed."

On the star map, the Singularity Corridor was marked as a rotating dark red region, like a festering wound in the universe.

Its edges were blurry, with constant energy eruptions and matter ejections—that was the primitive cosmic energy leaking from the damaged parts of The Weave, and also the place where "entropy" was most active.

"During the traversal, all protective systems will be under extreme pressure," Evelyn continued.

"I suggest putting non-essential areas like the Ecological Garden into sleep mode to concentrate energy supply to the core systems."

Excellence looked at the star map, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table.

Seven beats, the rhythm of the seven beacons.

"No, keep the Ecological Garden running."

"Captain?" Li Wei looked up.

"That is our 'anchor'," Excellence said.

"Green plants, growing life, the food we grew ourselves... In the face of chaos, these are more important than any weapon. They remind us why we are fighting—not to destroy anything, but to protect these."

He paused for a moment.

"Of course, maintain physical isolation. If the situation becomes critical, we can cut off the energy supply at any time. But until then, I want the Ecological Garden to stay lit."

After the meeting ended, Excellence went to the Ecological Garden alone.

It was now artificial night, and simulated moonlight spilled down through the dome.

The starlight lettuce emitted a soft fluorescence in the dark, like a patch of small stars on the ground.

The moonlight rice swayed gently in the breeze, making a rustling sound; that was the airflow circulation system simulating a natural wind.

In the corner, those "sculptures" of lettuce trees stood quietly, their leaves gleaming with a metallic luster under the moonlight.

Chen Yu was still working, checking the automatic irrigation system.

"Captain."

"Sister Chen, if we can't make it through that region ahead..." Excellence didn't finish.

Chen Yu nodded understandingly.

"I know. I will ensure all seed banks are completely sealed. Just in case... someone will always need them."

"Thank you." Excellence walked to a starlight lettuce plant, his fingers gently touching the glowing leaves.

"You know, sometimes I feel that by modifying these plants, I am actually also modifying myself. Learning the resilience and balance of life, learning to create rather than destroy."

"This is where you are different from Carter," Chen Yu said.

"He wants to become a 'higher existence,' you want to become a 'better self.'"

The communicator rang; it was Su Mu.

"Excellence, come to the bridge. Sensors have captured signs of large-scale energy aggregation, right on our flight path."

Excellence took one last look at the Ecological Garden, this small oasis tenaciously existing within the steel warship.

Then he turned and walked toward the bridge.

The fluorescence of the starlight lettuce gradually faded behind him, but that light had already been planted in everyone's heart.

The true darkness was right ahead, but this time, they were going with light.