Chapter Two: Something's Off About This Mothership!

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2. Something’s off about this mothership!

The hatch opened, and one by one, green indicator lights illuminated the pristine corridor, guiding Tang Xiao toward the elevator leading to the bridge. A nurse stationed at the doorway kept her head down and hurried back to the medical bay to tidy up.

“The Administrator has awakened. All units, please pay attention to work arrangements… The Administrator has awakened…” The broadcast from the central AI echoed continuously down the hallway.

Yet the entire place still felt eerily empty. Tang Xiao walked for quite some time before spotting two soldiers in black uniforms standing by the elevator doors.

As soon as they saw Tang Xiao approaching, the two soldiers snapped to attention and gave a crisp, standard salute. “Greetings, Administrator!”

Tang Xiao felt a bit uneasy but nodded in return. Seeing his response, the soldiers straightened their chests even more proudly.

The elevator took about ten minutes to reach the bridge level. Fortunately, inside the elevator there was a television to pass the time, and even a terminal to handle work tasks, though Tang Xiao wasn’t quite sure what to do yet.

Soon, he arrived at a vast hall, where two more soldiers stood guard, their faces resolute. Upon seeing Tang Xiao, they immediately stood at attention and saluted.

At the center of the hall was a massive holographic star map. However, most of it was shrouded in darkness, revealing nothing.

Around the hall were numerous seats and control consoles. Judging by the setup, operating this place would require over a hundred people working together, yet there were only a dozen or so at work now.

“Greetings, Administrator!” Everyone present stood in unison and saluted Tang Xiao.

He nodded and gazed out through the enormous panoramic observation window, where a green planet came into view. Unlike Earth’s blue hue, this planet was covered predominantly by lush greenery, giving it an entirely green appearance.

Around the planet’s edges, white atmospheric clouds were clearly visible, indicating a healthy atmosphere.

But the most striking sight wasn’t the planet itself—it was the massive gas giant looming behind it. This small planet looked like a mouse standing beneath the feet of an elephant compared to the giant.

The pale blue sphere was smooth and pristine, with only a few dark cyclones spotted here and there, resembling a bouncy ball from childhood—clearly a gas giant.

“This is the habitable planet we’ve found?” Tang Xiao asked.

“Yes, Administrator.” The central hologram switched to display a star system. The AI explained: “This is a binary star system, consisting of two stars revolving around a shared center of mass. Within this system, there is only one planet—the gas giant with a diameter of 48,951 kilometers.”

“In addition, this gas giant has nine moons orbiting it, and we are currently located on one of these moons. There is another moon with a suitable climate, but its ocean coverage exceeds 99%, making colonization unfeasible.”

“Nine moons orbiting a gas giant?” Tang Xiao frowned, thinking it over. “So we can only colonize this small moon we’re on? What should I do now? No suggestions?”

Standing up from a nearby round table was a man in his mid-twenties, dressed in a dark blue military uniform. He saluted Tang Xiao and said, “First, we need to replenish fuel. The atmosphere of the gas giant contains abundant helium, which can power various ship reactors. Therefore, we must build a mining station near the giant. The mothership’s storage holds modular semi-finished components, and the hangar has some small engineering ships ready for assembly. However, these ships require pilots.”

“So I’ll need to awaken these pilots?”

“Yes. After you awoke from hibernation, the AI activated fifty of us to prepare in advance: ten marines, five civilian staff, five staff officers, five communications personnel, five maintenance workers, ten mothership operators, and ten medical staff to ensure our health. We now require your authorization to awaken more personnel.”

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“Good. What’s your name?” Tang Xiao asked, impressed by the man’s organized manner.

“My name is Qi Jian. I’m a member of the staff department,” Qi Jian replied with a proud and clear voice.

“Flagship—that’s a good name. If there’s no assigned position yet, from now on you are our acting chief of staff,” Tang Xiao declared.

Qi Jian immediately became excited, responding loudly, “Yes! I guarantee to complete the mission!”

“All right. Let me check the status of our hibernating crew.” Following the AI’s prompt, Tang Xiao sat in the highest command seat at the bridge’s center. A massive holographic screen unfolded before him.

The screen listed personnel available for awakening: 600,000 residents and 50,000 crew members, each specializing in different fields. Given the current situation, it made sense to awaken people from the 50,000 crew, who were more familiar with working aboard the mothership.

These personnel were divided into ranks: ordinary, elite, master; beyond that, three levels were marked with question marks. Awakening requirements varied accordingly.

For example, master-level talents were masters in their respective fields. Waking them in a barren colony with nothing but tents would likely make them revolt immediately.

Therefore, each master had conditions for awakening, mostly self-imposed before entering cryosleep and agreed upon in contracts with the mothership.

Curious, Tang Xiao browsed through the master-level profiles. He randomly opened one: a master astrophysicist whose demands included a three-story villa with a private pool, state-of-the-art laboratory, and a super radio observatory built on a plateau at least 3,000 meters above sea level.

Another was a master quantum physicist who required a dust-free lab, cutting-edge instruments, a particle collider over 50 kilometers long, two young female secretaries under 20 years old, and a velvet bed no less than five meters in diameter.

What? That’s not right!

Some demands were more reasonable. For instance, a master sociologist simply wanted the colony population to exceed ten million—no special living or food requirements.

…That demand was even more ridiculous, damn it! (╯°Д°)╯(┻━┻!!

Tang Xiao decisively closed the master-level interface, not even glancing at the elite level. He had nothing now; even if he awakened those people, they’d probably quit or cause trouble.

The reasoning was simple: early-stage work could be handled well by ordinary-level personnel, with some elite figures leading the way.

Master-level awakening conditions being strict made sense. For example, waking a master physicist during early colony construction without precision instruments or labs—what could they do? Teach physics? But there’s no school yet!

Most masters were in their fifties or sixties, their time limited. Would it be wise to have them waste their years following primitive colony development?

Hence, these contracts and conditions before sleep were not without cause.

Ordinary-level personnel had almost no conditions—generally, food, shelter, and work sufficed. A few wanted coworkers of the opposite sex or simple things like noodles.

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Before authorizing awakenings, Tang Xiao pondered and asked, “AI, am I the only one authorized to awaken crew? And are all these people working for me?”

“Yes. You hold the highest authority on this mothership. All your orders are executed unconditionally, including self-destructing the ship if you so command. All crew and residents were selected by you and owe the highest loyalty to you.”

“When was I supposed to have selected them?”

“No related records exist in the database.”

Tang Xiao nodded silently. He quickly found the engineering department among the ordinary crew and chose to awaken ten squads, each with ten people, to operate the engineering ships. Following the AI’s guidance, he also awakened two squads of maintenance personnel, each with ten people.

Once underway, Tang Xiao quickly settled into his role. Small-scale task assignments were straightforward. He then awakened twenty people from the agriculture department to tend the hydroponic bays onboard, having noticed many crops were withered.

No wonder the AI told him supplies were nearly depleted.

After completing the most urgent tasks, Tang Xiao relaxed, crossing his legs. “AI, give me an overview of this mothership’s basic information.”

“Understood.”

The central hologram displayed a panoramic image of the mothership. The AI continued: “This vessel’s civilization origin unknown. Manufacturer unknown. Current highest authority holder: Administrator Tang Xiao.”

“Technical specifications: total height 41.37 kilometers; longest dimension 10.92 kilometers; total mass 373.079 billion tons. Armaments: five mass drivers and a point-defense system with 377 small electromagnetic rapid-fire cannons. Total capacity…”

While the AI methodically explained, Tang Xiao paid little attention. He was stunned by the hologram of this colossal ship before him.

It resembled a crescent moon or a giant banana in shape, its design strikingly elegant. Near the upper middle section was a notch filled with numerous portholes—that was the bridge.

What shocked Tang Xiao wasn’t merely the ship’s size—roughly the distance from the imperial capital to Langfang—but that he recognized this vessel.

“‘Homeworld’!! The Kushan Mothership!!” Tang Xiao leapt from his seat, shouting in disbelief.

He had played the legendary game “Homeworld: The Song of Kushan,” which revolutionized real-time space strategy games. That grand narrative had captivated him since elementary school.

Yet now, the iconic mothership from the game—the Kushan Mothership—was the very ship he commanded?

This didn’t make sense! How could something from a game become reality? And if the mothership from “Homeworld” appeared in real life, does that mean…

That dream might have been real! Could it be that he truly was now in the universe of “Star Wars”?

[Bonus Chapter Illustration 1: “Homeworld,” the Kushan Mothership]