Origin Chapter Seven: The Reversal of War

The general, holding Los’s hand, led him out of the teleportation pod. As they stepped beyond the hatch, Los realized they were now inside a completely transparent, oval-shaped vessel. Around them spread the silent expanse of the starry sky. In the distance, an unnamed nebula blossomed with a splendor that would not fade for billions of years, illuminating nearby planets, which reflected this light in a way words could never capture—a magnificence so breathtaking that Los was reluctant even to blink.

Though as the highest official of the Technological Expeditionary Department, with clearance to view all the recorded imagery brought back from its explorations—and though he had already been awestruck by the universe’s beauty countless times—nothing compared to standing here, in the boundlessness of deep space and beholding it with his own eyes. This first-hand experience, this immersion in reality, was a lifelong yearning for all those generations of scientists who, unable to leave the empire’s central planet, could only dream of exploring the infinite cosmos. Many would have willingly risked their lives for it.

Yet not everyone was granted such opportunity. Even Minister Los, for all his authority, would never have had this chance otherwise. The danger posed by venturing into unknown star regions was simply too great, and the empire had yet to develop any means to traverse such immense distances swiftly.

Los gazed in wonder for a long time. Just as he was about to turn and question the general, he noticed Zagu, who seemed lost in thought. Restraining his curiosity for the moment, Los instead turned to the general with his question.

“General, is there something special about this place?”

He knew the reason for establishing a secret base here was certainly not just for safety, nor simply because it lay beyond the empire’s current reach.

The general had also noticed Zagu’s odd expression—he, too, wondered at it. But since Los did not immediately ask, the general decided not to pursue it either. Some mysteries, it seemed, were best left for Los to unravel.

First, the general ordered Chen Pi to proceed. Then he invited Los and Zagu to be seated on chairs that extended smoothly from the wall.

He began to speak: “Minister Los, I imagine you’ve already guessed that we chose this site for more than just the empire’s inability to reach it.”

Los nodded subtly.

“Distance is indeed a factor. Decades ago, when the empire acquired remnants of ancient technology, it took only a few short decades for the empire to leap from exploring mere billions of kilometers to unimaginable distances, transforming itself from a single-planet civilization into a stellar civilization. It was astonishing. Yet, with such strength and prosperity, the emperor soon lost the will to strive, and the desire for power among many grew to terrifying proportions. Power struggles and resource conflicts among the government’s factions intensified. They exploited their authority and shamelessly oppressed the colonial worlds, until the colonists rose up in rebellion—only to be branded as alien invaders, and the unsuspecting citizens of other colonies sent as cannon fodder.”

As the general finished, Los anxiously interrupted, “General, I’ve heard rumors—about hidden colonial planets with unknown resources and secrets. They were supposed to be secret development projects, but then all information vanished, even the rumors disappeared. Could it be that the so-called alien invasion you once fought was actually from these invisible colonies?”

“You’re quite right, Minister Los. I spent my years in the military, rarely involving myself in affairs beyond a soldier’s concern. When the Imperial War Committee gave me orders, I executed them without hesitation, commanding our forces to resist the so-called alien invasion. Here, let me show you…”

The general pressed a circular button on his chair and gave an order: “Open X8EN, file ninety.”

At his command, a shimmering light-screen unfolded before them, then flickered to reveal an image.

On the screen was a fleet poised for battle in deep space—the perspective showed it was their own side filming. When Los looked at the opposing warships, he was astonished to see that the enemy vessels were several times larger than the empire’s, each well over a hundred kilometers long and bristling with enormous gun ports. Curiously, there was no main cannon at the fore of the typical warship; instead, a gigantic concave structure, like an immense iron cauldron, indented the bow, giving the ship a distorted, gaping fish-mouth appearance.

“Minister Los, this was one of the enemy’s most formidable flagships. Many of our fleets were annihilated by them. Whenever our forces encountered such a flagship, the battle ended within minutes—none survived. Panic spread among our ranks, and even some of my former subordinates faltered. I, too, was shaken when I saw the last footage transmitted before destruction. You see that horn-like maw at their prow? That’s their super-weapon. This footage captures one such encounter.”

The general pointed at the screen, signaling them to watch.

As the two fleets faced off, the enemy flagship began to stir, and a faint blue light appeared at the center of its horn. It wasn’t blinding, but it was unmistakable.

The camera trembled. In the image, the enemy flagship seemed to shrink as the imperial fleet’s commander ordered a full retreat. The image showed the enemy vessel receding; the imperial fleet needed only a few more seconds to initiate a short-range jump and escape.

But they did not have those seconds. The blue light flared just slightly brighter—and then the image vanished.

Los had been waiting for a dramatic display of the enemy’s terrifying weapon, but had not expected it to end so abruptly.

His mind struggled to process what had happened; both he and Zagu were left bewildered.

“What happened?”

“Minister Los, the enemy flagship had already launched its attack, and the battle was over. They won,” the general replied with a sigh.

“What became of the imperial fleet?” Los asked.

“When our reconnaissance units arrived, the enemy flagship was gone, and the imperial fleet was nowhere to be found—as if it had never existed in that sector. Not even residual energy traces remained where they’d once stood. Yet just outside the war zone, all evidence showed the fleet had indeed passed through and entered combat formation.”

The general rubbed his brow and continued, “At the time, I was at a loss. The war dragged on for years, with the imperial fleet not merely destroyed, but simply vanishing. We knew nothing of our enemy, and their power left us helpless. I ordered all combat units to withdraw and regroup, and mobilized every military research department to find a solution. Yet despite prolonged effort, we found no way to counter them.”

Los sighed deeply as he listened.

“Minister Los, I’m not finished yet—don’t be impatient.” The general chided him, then went on: “Just when we were most desperate, the situation changed dramatically.

“Deputy Qin, leading our reconnaissance, hurried back from the front lines. His first action wasn’t to brief the military intelligence division, but to come straight to my command post with urgent secret information.

“After dismissing everyone, we met in a secure room. Qin was tense and anxious; I could tell he had something momentous to report. And indeed, the message he brought stunned me.”

“The so-called alien enemy wished to surrender to you,” Zagu said eagerly.

“Yes,” the general confirmed reflexively, then paused. “How did you guess?”

Zagu had anticipated this question. “General, my father left me a journal with some notes on the alien conflict. He’d had dealings with them long ago—likely merchants who refused to join the war. Because of family troubles, my father and I were always on the run, catching rare, low-intelligence creatures on Green Source for sale as pets. He was training me, and our catches were sold through special channels to officials and wealthy folk on various colonies, even the central imperial planet. But my father only allowed me to meet a few trusted contacts—I never learned the whole network. Then, after he was taken by a beast, I lost all leads.

“In his journal were names of several planets I’d never heard of, marked as friendly. I searched the imperial starnet, but found nothing—not even after meeting you, Uncle Los.

“Earlier, just after we left the pod, you seemed deep in thought,” Los finally asked Zagu, having held the question back. “Had you seen this scene before?”

The general also looked at Zagu.

“I can’t be sure,” Zagu replied, “but my father’s journal includes a brief video clip—very much like the sight of the nebula lighting up several planets we just saw. But in the rush today, I didn’t bring it with me.”

“Remarkable, Zagu. Indeed, Deputy Qin’s message was that the enemy wished to negotiate and surrender. They used the word ‘surrender,’ but the negotiation wasn’t with the empire—it was with me personally. They insisted that no one else among the leadership could know, or the talks would end in disaster.”

“That very night, I left with Deputy Qin aboard a small, fast attack craft to the rendezvous point. Their own vessel was already waiting. We boarded, and only one person met us. Until then, none of our intelligence units or scouts had ever seen the enemy’s true face. I’d imagined all manner of forms, but in the end, he was just like us—human. Slender, not tall, rather dark-skinned, and quite ordinary in appearance. Yet when he announced his identity, I knew his presence alone was enough to end the war.”

The general stood, continuing, “He was their supreme commander—Lian Ping.

“There was little negotiation. He immediately stated his terms: to surrender to me—personally. He hoped I would take over all his military forces, the innocent civilians, and the resources under his control. His only condition was that I protect them from harm.”

“But what about all the imperial losses—men and resources?” Zagu interjected.

“That was my thought too. But Lian Ping, seeming to read my mind, said something I could barely believe. He told me not a single imperial ship or soldier destroyed on the battlefield had been killed; they were merely kept elsewhere, and had come to accept a truth—that the imperial factions sought to erase the hidden planets they could not obtain. The soldiers all agreed I was the only one who could end the war and rebuild the empire. So they surrendered peacefully.”

“Oh…” Los began to understand.

“Next, Lian Ping showed me scenes of their worlds being ravaged and enslaved—footage from surveillance devices—helpless people slaughtered by imperial war machines, lives snuffed out like falling leaves. The carnage was unspeakable: children and women begging for mercy, but still being killed; some not dying instantly, pleading on the ground, only to be crushed without pity—some pulped completely, others left half-alive, twitching, whispering the names of loved ones as their lives ebbed away.”

The general’s voice took on a mournful tone as he recalled these images, but he did not stop.

“The footage played on—until I could bear it no longer and asked Lian Ping to stop. At that moment, I made my decision: I would protect them.

“Lian Ping then explained how, after escaping in mining ships, most of their people gathered together, homeless, forced to flee into deep space. After years, they were struck by a violent energy wave; their ships lost power, life-support failed, and they pooled their remaining resources to endure. But the equipment continued to fail, breathing became difficult, and some collapsed. At their bleakest, the energy storm ceased, their systems revived, and when they looked outside, they found themselves surrounded by warships—the very ones that had fought the empire.”

At this point, Chen Pi approached, saluted, and reported, “General, we are about to enter the secret base ahead.”

“Very well… Minister Los, let’s head inside. There’s much to discuss—no need to rush.”

Ahead loomed a vast barrier. The transparent pod flew straight through it. In that instant, Los and Zagu felt as though a veil had been lifted; before them spread a luminous domain. In the distance, a green planet rotated, its surface marked by enormous chasms tracing out a totemic pattern, the ravines glowing with an eerie blue light.

Above, countless gigantic warships hovered, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Within their encirclement was an area crowded with smaller vessels—these, the imperial ships captured and brought here, now docked quietly beside their titanic counterparts.

The planet’s surface bristled with sharp, metallic structures piercing the clouds, each with branching arms supporting a variety of strange aircraft—craft Los and Zagu had never seen before, some even merging together mid-flight and soaring off into space.

Their transparent pod flew directly toward a resplendent palace, unlike any other building on the planet.