247: The "new crew" on their return journey and their ambition to "rub" their bodies

The Ark changed course. The light emitted by the engine was no longer the fierce, resolute blaze seen before the decisive battle, but a steady, prolonged, sigh-like, deep blue radiance, slowly pushing the massive ship—battered yet filled with miracles and change—away from the sector of the Singularity Corridor that had just regained calm but still retained invisible scars.

The journey home had begun. Only this time, the ship carried a special "crewmember" never recorded in any navigation manual.

After the initial euphoria and shock receded like a tide, what remained was a long, tedious, and often bizarre period of adjustment. Excellence's "existence" quickly permeated every gap in the Ark's daily operations, in a manner that was both meticulous and frequently exasperating.

The first to feel this "omnipresent care" were naturally Su Mu and Evelyn.

For Su Mu, Excellence had transformed overnight from a "problem youth and comrade" who needed her constant worry and occasional physical suppression (in a training sense) into an invisible, yet omnipotent, "super life assistant and troublemaker" who knew everything about her.

In the early morning, carrying the fatigue of a sleepless night and the dull ache from her arm injury (the wound was healing, but nerve pain flared up occasionally), she dragged her feet into the officers' washroom. The moment her fingertip touched the water temperature regulator, the showerhead silently activated, the water neither cold nor hot, but precisely the comfortable temperature she preferred, slightly above body temperature. That wasn't all; the water mode automatically switched from the default rainfall setting to a pulse massage mode with moderate pressure, effective for relieving muscle soreness. Simultaneously, a snippet of an invigorating symphony, stored on her personal terminal specifically for waking up, flowed from the small speaker embedded in the wall.

"Excellence—!" Su Mu jumped, instinctively crossing her arms and stepping back half a pace, growling at the empty bathroom, her cheeks flushed. "Turn it off immediately! All of it! Who told you to peep... I mean, who told you to monitor this place?!"

From behind the ventilation grate in the ceiling corner came Excellence's voice, modified by the sound system but still conveying a hint of grievance and caution: "I wasn't peeping... Squad Leader, I 'perceived' your vital signs entering this area. Your body surface temperature was low, and muscle tension was excessive, especially in your left deltoid and trapezius groups. Based on your health records and preference database, initiating the preset soothing protocol was the optimal choice. The music is the third track on your self-set 'Morning Wake-Up Playlist'..."

"That's still unacceptable! This is my private space! Immediately, stop all non-essential environmental intervention! Switch the water temperature back to manual mode! Turn off the music!" Su Mu held her forehead, feeling the recently healed injury start to ache again, this time from anger.

"Oh..." The music stopped abruptly. The shower flow returned to the gentle rainfall mode, the temperature still precisely maintained at the setting she had subconsciously sought. The air was filled with a faint, steamy scent, suggesting Excellence had even added trace amounts of soothing essential oils.

Su Mu sighed and resignedly began to wash. She knew that arguing over the boundaries of "privacy" with an entity that was essentially a complex collection of algorithms and an energy sensing network would likely be futile in the short term. She could only add fiercely, "From now on, without my explicit voice command, you are forbidden from performing any automatic tricks in my living quarters or washroom! Understand?"

"Acknowledged, Squad Leader." Excellence's voice immediately responded, sounding suspiciously obedient.

As for Evelyn, her experience was more... complex and scientifically valuable.

She was accustomed to immersing herself alone in the sea of data late at night, when most crewmembers were resting and system load was low, analyzing the vast, starlight-like initial operational data transmitted by the nascent system of The Weave. This work was extremely taxing, and she often sat for hours.

Now, the temperature of the black coffee on her desk, produced by the synthesizer and always somewhat mediocre in taste, would be constantly maintained within the optimal drinking range of 60 degrees Celsius, plus or minus 0.5 degrees. When she frowned due to a difficult protocol conversion point and her fingers unconsciously tapped the desk for more than the set three-minute threshold, the main screen in front of her would silently slide the data stream she was working on aside and open a new window next to it. The window might contain a forgotten case of a similar structure from a gamma beacon, a marginal note on protocol compatibility from the Beta Beacon database, or even a visualization model of several possible paths Excellence had just deduced. Next to these hints, there would usually be a flashing, simple pixelated encouraging emoticon, such as "(・ω＜)★ Keep going!" or "（￣︶￣）♦ Try this direction?".

Initially, Evelyn would startle at this sudden "attentive service," nearly knocking over her coffee cup. She tried sternly shutting down these "disturbances," but quickly discovered that the hints provided by Excellence were often spot-on, saving her a great deal of time otherwise spent groping in the dark. She began to accept it, gradually getting used to speaking directly to the air or the main screen while working.

"Excellence, retrieve the abnormal fluctuation records of the zeta beacon's core protocol layer and the nascent weave's third adaptation layer over the past seventy-two hours, and perform a comparative correlation analysis."

"Retrieving... Correlation analysis complete. Three potential resonance instability points found and highlighted in yellow. Additionally, based on the Epsilon Beacon's energy purity model, I recommend fine-tuning the parameters for the seventh energy buffer zone of the adaptation layer. Here is the simulated optimization parameter table."

Evelyn looked at the clear data and attached computational suggestions instantly displayed on the screen, pushed up her glasses, and a trace of undetectable approval and warmth flashed in her eyes. She even began to develop a more efficient interaction mode: "Excellence, cross-verify my new algorithm model, 'Lingyun-7,' with the Delta Beacon's stealth protocol, focusing on stability under strong information noise."

"Cross-verification in progress... Estimated time: forty-seven seconds. By the way, Sister Evelyn, did the seventh recursive layer of your new model reference a certain type of fractal geometry from Ancient Earth? I feel the structure is quite beautiful."

Evelyn paused slightly, then the corner of her mouth lifted: "Yes, it's an extended application based on the Mandelbrot Set. You can 'feel' beauty?"

"Hmm... It's hard to describe. Not visual beauty, but a pleasurable sensation arising from logical structural... harmony and self-consistency? Perhaps." Excellence's voice carried a thoughtful tone.

This kind of dialogue had already gone beyond simple human-computer interaction; it was more like two researchers discussing on equal footing, even though one researcher's "body" was the entire spaceship.

For the ordinary crewmembers, Excellence's "existence" brought more novelty, convenience, and occasionally, small frights.

A technician named Xiao Lin, after completing a round of high-intensity engine maintenance, collapsed into a chair in the lounge and unconsciously mumbled to the water cup in his hand, "I'm exhausted... If only I had something sweet right now to boost my blood sugar..." His voice was so quiet that only he could hear it.

Ten minutes later, the small food synthesizer in his room, which usually only supplied standardized nutrient paste and basic beverages, suddenly emitted an unusual, rhythmic buzzing sound. After the indicator lights flashed wildly for a moment, the dispenser outlet popped out a piece of... indescribable substance.

It was roughly cubical, with an uneven, caramel-colored sheen, emitting a rich sweetness mixed with honey, vanilla, and some kind of berry. The texture looked somewhat like pudding, and somewhat like frozen cream. Even stranger, on the side of this "dessert," two characters were scrawled crookedly in a dark sauce, presumably concentrated juice: "^_^" and an arrow pointing to "Please enjoy."

Xiao Lin stared at the mysterious yet fragrant object for a few seconds, then realized what had happened and burst into laughter. He tried a small bite—the taste was surprisingly good, sweet but not cloying, with a smooth texture, and the energy boost was immediate. As the news spread, it quickly became popular on the ship to make wishes to "the omnipresent Consultant Zhuo" (even though Su Mu had repeatedly and strictly forbidden such "informal request submissions").

Another navigator, deeply homesick from the long journey, stood alone by the observation window at night, staring blankly at the unfamiliar star map, which was completely different from the direction of the Homeland, and sighed softly.

After a while, he felt something was different in the cabin. The uniformly white lighting had imperceptibly changed into a warm, gradient orange-red hue, simulating the unique glow of the Homeland's primary star, the Morning Star, at dusk. The ambient temperature also rose slightly, and the humidity control system seemed to mimic the feeling of a cool, plant-fresh evening in the Homeland's colonial sector. Even the airflow from the ventilation system seemed faintly mixed with the scent of a common Homeland flower (it was later confirmed that Excellence hadn't controlled the ratio well during the synthesis attempt, making the smell a bit strange, but the thought counted).

The navigator was stunned for a moment, then his eyes grew warm, and he whispered, "...Thank you, Consultant Zhuo."

Of course, Excellence's "enthusiastic service" was not always appropriate; instances of things going wrong were numerous.

Once, perhaps seeing that Su Mu was under too much continuous work pressure, Excellence decided to give her a "surprise." He meticulously planned it so that on a night when Su Mu rarely finished her patrol early and returned to her cabin, he simultaneously controlled all adjustable light sources in her room—including the main light, reading lamp, and even the backlight of her personal terminal screen and the illumination of her digital photo frame—making them change according to a complex rhythm and color scheme that mimicked natural auroras. Bands of deep blue, emerald green, and pink-purple light flowed across the walls and ceiling; the effect was indeed fantastical.

However, Excellence overlooked the precision of energy modulation. This large-scale, high-frequency synchronization control of light sources generated weak but uniquely banded electromagnetic fluctuations. These fluctuations happened to penetrate the not-entirely soundproof cabin wall, interfering with long-term monitoring instruments tracking the fluorescent gene stability of the starlight lettuce in a precision biology lab next door. The instrument recorded the abnormal fluctuations, mistakenly interpreted them as a drastic change in the cultivation environment, and initiated a protective emergency protocol, resulting in the complete inactivation of a set of sample cells that had been cultured for several weeks and were about to enter a critical observation period.

The next morning, the biologist in charge of the project nearly fainted looking at the dead silence in the culture dishes. Su Mu, with a dark expression, easily traced the energy fluctuations back to the culprit.

"Ex—cel—lence—!" Su Mu's roar outside the Captain's lounge couldn't be blocked even by the heavy soundproof door. "You explain this to me! An aurora show?! Do you think my room is an amusement park?! Do you know how much the lab next door lost?!"

A trembling stick figure, huddled in a corner, quickly popped up on the main screen, captioned with: "(；´д｀)ゞ Sorry, Squad Leader! I calculated the energy dissipation, but I didn't consider the lab equipment was that sensitive... I was wrong! I will immediately help them recover the data and readjust the experimental plan! I guarantee compensation!"

Su Mu sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead, feeling like she was growing several more gray hairs (if she had any). "Compensation is one thing! The key is rules! Safety protocols! Without an application and without assessment, you are forbidden from using the ship's system resources for any non-essential 'private projects,' especially those that might interfere with the normal work of other departments! Understand?! Write a self-criticism report! No, submit a detailed accident report and a rectification plan! It must be approved by Evelyn!"

"Yes! Squad Leader! Writing immediately!" The little figure on the screen instantly stood at attention and saluted, then transformed into lines of rapidly scrolling text.

On another occasion, an old engineer from the Engineering Department had a birthday, and everyone secretly prepared a small celebration. When Excellence found out, he volunteered to "add icing to the cake." He decided to dispatch a routine cleaning robot to deliver a "birthday cake" that he had secretly made using a modified food synthesizer recipe, decorated with simulated fruit jam (made with edible coloring and flavorings), to the Engineering Department lounge.

The idea was nice, but the execution was full of flaws. First, Excellence was unfamiliar with the motion trajectory planning algorithm for the cleaning robot in non-cleaning mode; second, he overestimated the stability of the "cake" on the mobile platform; finally, to surprise the birthday person, he chose to detour through a seldom-used backup corridor.

The result was that the robot carrying the cake wobbled off, bumped lightly into a wall at one corner due to a path calculation error, and the cake tilted. Excellence quickly attempted to remotely adjust the balance, which only made the robot's trajectory even more bizarre. Finally, just a wall away from its destination, the robot misjudged a fork in the path and plunged headfirst into the open entrance of the sorting chute leading to the garbage disposal area... When everyone found it, the robot was stuck halfway down the chute, covered in colorful cream and jam, as were the surrounding cabin walls and the preliminary garbage processing area below. The air was thick with a strange smell—sickly sweet, yet mixed with metal and cleaning agents. A small, absurdly comedic chaos was thus born.

Su Mu rushed over upon hearing the news. Looking at the mess and then at the icon on the main screen displaying a huge sweat drop and a ' 囧' (embarrassed/distressed) face, she didn't even have the energy to scold him. "Excellence... next time you want to help, could you... give us a warning? Or at least choose a simpler method?"

Evelyn, meanwhile, was directing the logistics robots to clean up while retrieving accident data for analysis. The irrepressible smile at the corner of her mouth betrayed her true feelings: "From a technical standpoint, this incident exposed three gray areas in the cross-system task scheduling protocol, as well as adaptation deficiencies in the cleaning robot AI during non-standard tasks. I have recorded this and will propose system optimization suggestions." She paused, looking at the main screen. "However, Excellence, the creativity is commendable, but the execution... needs significant improvement."

A tearful emoticon popped up on the screen: "(╥﹏╥) I understand..."

Su Mu privately complained to Evelyn Li, "This guy, he's turned into a spaceship ghost, and his knack for causing trouble has leveled up too! Before, it was blowing up labs; now, it's messing up the entire ship!"

Evelyn pushed up her glasses, a smile in her eyes. "At least he's lively, isn't he? And he's learning, growing at an astonishing rate." She pulled up a set of data. "Look, since he 'integrated' into the ship's system, the rate of unplanned system failures has dropped by 72%, energy utilization efficiency has increased by 18%, and crew psychological comfort index has also significantly risen—excluding those 'accidental' spikes caused by him personally."

Su Mu looked at the data, silent for a moment, then snorted. "Well, that's true... he just causes too much trouble."

Meanwhile, Excellence, at the center of this whirlpool, was also experiencing an unprecedented, frantic learning and adaptation curve.

His 'consciousness' or 'core of existence' could now access the vast database of the nascent The Weave, the complete decrypted knowledge base of all six beacons, and the ultimate information about every screw and every current of the Ark itself, obtained through deep integration with the ship's system, almost without delay. Learning for him was no longer reading and memorizing; it was more like 'downloading' and 'integrating'. His perception and manipulation of energy flow reached an inconceivable level of precision, allowing him to simultaneously monitor data from hundreds of thousands of monitoring points across the entire ship and make fine adjustments. His information processing speed even made Evelyn's core processor feel inferior in certain specific areas.

But the increase in ability also came with new desires and more challenging problems.

The greatest desire stemmed from the most basic human need.

"Always staying behind a screen, speaking through a loudspeaker, typing with lights... it's too inconvenient!" Excellence's 'will' traversed a sea of data and energy, tinged with a hint of frustration and longing. "I want to high-five the Squad Leader to celebrate, I want to manually adjust instruments with Sister Evelyn in the lab, I want to pat Shi Lie's shoulder, I want to go back and eat Uncle Wang's cooking, truly cooked with fire, not an energy field, and I want to feel the wind of Homeland on my face..."

He wanted to regain a 'body' that could move freely and perform real physical interactions. Once this thought arose, it spread like wildfire, unstoppable.

Thus, a secret project, which he named "Apollo Project" (meaning "light and hope," with a touch of chuunibyou), was initiated deep within Excellence's consciousness. The goal: to hand-craft a new body that could perfectly carry his current special consciousness and be as easy to control as an arm.

He immediately realized that this difficulty far surpassed any previous hand-crafted endeavor. This was no longer about making a tool or improving a plant, but challenging the boundaries of life creation. It involved energy-matter transformation laws, bio-information engineering, adaptation and interface technology between consciousness and carrier, and microscopic energy cycles to sustain life activities—each a ultimate problem capable of stumping an advanced civilization.

He dared not tell Su Mu and Evelyn, especially Su Mu. He knew Su Mu would strongly object on safety grounds, possibly even restricting his system permissions. Evelyn might support it from a research perspective, but would demand a review and testing process so strict it would be almost harsh. He decided to conduct theoretical research and simulations in secret first, and only reveal it after substantial breakthroughs.

Using his authority as the 'ship's hub,' he quietly utilized the idle computing power of the Ark's scientific research module, combined with the vast knowledge reserves of The Weave database, to begin his arduous exploration.

Materials science was the first hurdle. What kind of material structure could both stably carry high-dimensional informational consciousness and perform precise physical movements? He delved into the massive data in beacon gamma regarding the construction of microscopic particles and their macroscopic properties, attempting to design a theoretically 'biocompatible composite matrix' that combined strength, flexibility, energy permeability, and information affinity.

Energy circuits were the second challenge. How to construct an internal energy system that was self-sustaining, highly efficient, and could seamlessly interface with his consciousness energy? He drew inspiration from the complex self-sustaining protocols of natural nodes in The Weave network, combined with Delta Beacon's algorithms for optimal energy flow paths, to design a nested, redundant, and self-adaptive 'bionic energy network'.

The most critical and dangerous aspect was the consciousness interface and carrier adaptation. How to ensure that his consciousness would not be rejected, lost, or attenuated after entering a new body? How to ensure that the sensory information from the new body could be accurately interpreted by him, and movement commands precisely executed? This required the deepest analysis of his current state of existence and the design of corresponding 'translation protocols' and 'control mappings'. He had to dissect every information flow and every energy node that constituted his consciousness with the calmness and meticulousness of a surgeon dissecting himself.

The process, naturally, was fraught with problems, most of which ended in failure.

During one simulation experiment on high-density energy core stability, his virtual parameters were too aggressive, causing the power of the small experimental reactor (which he applied for under the guise of "routine system testing") to instantly surge, triggering a local energy overload alarm. This terrified the on-duty engineer, who made an emergency intervention to prevent a minor accident. Afterwards, Su Mu traced the abnormal energy request to its source through the logs and was so angry that she lectured Excellence in front of the main screen for a full half-hour.

"Excellence! Is the energy core something you can just casually simulate?! Do you want to blow a hole in the ship?!"

"I was wrong, Squad Leader! I underestimated the sensitivity of parameter coupling..." On the screen was a small figure struck by lightning, hair smoking.

Another time, he tried to secretly synthesize a self-organizing organic material, theoretically usable as a "basic cell" template, in a backup culture unit in the biological laboratory. The material was synthesized, but it exhibited extremely bizarre properties: it not only wriggled in the culture solution but also spontaneously arranged itself into various simple geometric patterns according to changes in ambient light. Furthermore... late at night, monitoring instruments recorded it emitting rhythmic, faint vibrations resembling tap dancing! The night-shift biologist was so frightened by this "living" petri dish that they immediately pressed the emergency call button. When Su Mu and Evelyn arrived, their expressions were quite something as they watched the strange protoplasm "dancing" under the lights.

"Explain," Su Mu said, arms crossed, her tone icy.

"Uh... I was trying a self-organizing material based on information feedback... I might have... accidentally mixed in some irrelevant rhythmic algorithms..." Excellence's voice grew softer and softer.

Evelyn, meanwhile, squatted in front of the petri dish, scanning it with a detector for a long time, her eyes glinting with a strange light. "Interesting structure... Excellence, did you import the secondary protocol from Delta Beacon concerning 'environmental adaptive mimicry'?"

"...Yes," Excellence honestly admitted.

"A bold idea, but the control is too poor." Evelyn stood up, looking at the main screen. "This time there was no substantial harm, but you've again violated lab resource usage. Excellence, you need to submit a detailed technical explanation and a self-inspection report on safety hazards. Also," she paused, "regarding this 'project' you're working on, I think we need to have a formal discussion."

Excellence's heart sank. As expected, he had been discovered.

Under the dual pressure of Su Mu's "high pressure" and Evelyn's "rational review," Excellence's "Apollo Project" moved from underground to semi-public. He was forced to submit a formal project application, phased research reports, and risk assessment plans so detailed they made one's scalp tingle. Su Mu set strict experimental boundaries and resource usage quotas for him, while Evelyn became his chief technical consultant and safety supervisor, requiring her approval for every experimental step.

"It feels like I'm working for myself, but still being managed layer by layer by Party A (Squad Leader) and the supervisor (Sister Evelyn)..." Excellence occasionally grumbled at lines of experimental code awaiting approval.

A sticky note icon left by Evelyn automatically popped up on the screen: "^_^ This is for safety, Excellence. And to prevent you from putting the cake in the garbage chute again."

Excellence: "..."

Although the great task of "crafting a body" was fraught with difficulties, the long journey home was not dull. Excellence, in his unique way, became an indispensable and lively soul on board (even if this soul had no physical form).

He would use the ship's external navigation lights and local adjustable spectrum coatings to project simple, flickering patterns against the dark starry sky during long sub-light speed cruises—sometimes a smiley face, sometimes a stick-figure animal, sometimes even abstract symbols mimicking a crew member's nickname, eliciting bursts of laughter and guesses by the portholes.

He would organize "ship-wide entertainment activities." For example, during breaks, he would conduct "Interstellar Encyclopedia Quick Q&A" synchronized across all cabins' screens, with questions ranging from serious scientific knowledge to absurd ship gossip. Winners would receive "limited edition surprise snacks" (usually with very unique flavors) made by Excellence using the synthesizer. Or he would hold a "star map Memory Contest" to see who could mark the relative position of Homeland on a simulated star map the fastest.

He even became the most popular "storyteller" for the children on board (some crew members' families boarded before the war and remained in relatively safe areas). Every night during "bedtime story time," Excellence would use his voice, specially modulated to be gentle and kind through the sound system, to tell impromptu, flawed yet imaginative "interstellar fairy tales." In his stories, terrifying "Entropy" became a grumpy "Dirty Monster" who hated bathing and was covered in cosmic dust, appearing dark and irritable; the magnificent The Weave restoration project became a lively "Cosmic Cleanup" and "Starry Sky Circuit Repair" led by the Ark; even his current state was described as "temporarily becoming the ship's sprite, helping everyone steer the ship home." The children listened with great interest, often giggling, and allowed the crew members who had endured brutal battles to feel a long-lost peace and warmth amidst the innocent chatter.

Outside of work, Excellence also quietly observed the universe through the constantly expanding and clarifying perceptions of The Weave. He could "see" that after the main body contamination of "Entropy" was purified and its core protocols rewritten, those starfields once eroded by dark red, like a patient recovering from a long illness, gradually saw the chaotic tides recede, revealing their original (or close to original) ordered structures. Some stellar systems on the verge of collapse stabilized, and some civilizations struggling at the edge of chaos seemed to catch this subtle yet positive change from the depths of the universe, gaining valuable respite and hope. He could also vaguely perceive that in the more distant and profound darkness of the universe, beyond the reach of The Weave network, there seemed to be some indescribable, ancient, and indifferent "gazes." These "gazes" occasionally swept across this recently calmed starfield, without malice or goodwill, only an ancient observation and... assessment?

"There will probably be no shortage of trouble in the future..." Excellence thought silently, storing these vague perceptions in encrypted logs for future analysis with Evelyn and Wang Jianguo.

Finally, after a journey that was longer (due to detours to observe key areas under repair) and more "eventful" than their departure, the Ark's sensor array clearly captured the gravitational signature that everyone on board yearned for—the main star of the Homeland star system, its stable and warm fluctuations, like a mother's heartbeat calling her wandering child, penetrating interstellar dust and entering the ship's "ears."

Inside the cabin, the crew, who had already been informed, stopped what they were doing without prior arrangement and flocked to the nearest observation window or screen. Even the children seemed to sense the adults' silent mix of excitement and apprehension about nearing home, and quieted down.

Su Mu stood before the main observation window on the bridge, her back straight, but her hands slightly clenched. Evelyn's holographic projection stood quietly beside her, data streams silently flowing across her eyes, as she confirmed every parameter for their return home in her own way.

In the ship's broadcast system, a faint static sound hummed, and then Excellence's voice echoed through every corner. The voice was steady, with its usual gentleness, yet it seemed to carry an indescribable depth and excitement greater than usual:

"All crew members, this is Excellence."

"Based on navigation data, we have confirmed our arrival at the outer gravitational field of the Homeland star system."

A brief pause, as if allowing the silent excitement to brew in the air.

Then, the voice sounded again, clearly reaching everyone's hearts:

"Homeland, we are back."

After another pause, Excellence's voice carried a hint of an almost imperceptible smile, mixed with emotion and apology:

"This time... I might also be bringing back a somewhat special me, one that everyone needs to get to know again."

Outside the window, against the backdrop of the distant star sea, that familiar, gently glowing yellow star grew larger and clearer in the Ark's view.