Chapter 129: The Response

“…0.4 times the speed of light is simply too fast. Even with controlled nuclear fusion, it’s physically impossible to achieve that velocity because fusion can, at most, convert about 7% of a fuel’s mass into energy!”

“Exactly. Based on our current physics models, a spacecraft propelled by nuclear fusion would max out at roughly ten to fifteen percent the speed of light!”

“But if they’re actually cruising at 0.4c… they have to be utilizing a higher-order energy source, like antimatter annihilation, or an incredibly advanced propulsion system like a Warp Drive.”

The central observatory was always the most bustling sector aboard the Noah. Dozens of Senior Scientists spent their entire days here, furiously debating and analyzing data. They were desperate to find even the slightest clue about the alien vessel. Every single data point was a matter of life and death for humanity.

“I’ve got it! I have eyes on the target!” an astronomer suddenly shouted, his fingers flying across his keyboard as a series of enhanced images cascaded across his primary monitor.

In the most recent batch of deep-space exposures, an incredibly blurry black dot had finally materialized against the void. If it hadn’t been emitting such intense infrared radiation, they might have overlooked it entirely. The dot was only a few pixels wide, its edges smeared and indistinct, but it was enough for the tracking algorithms to work with.

A group of researchers immediately crowded around the terminal, buzzing with excitement. Feeding the raw data into the Noah’s central mainframe, they generated simulated 3D models based on photos taken from various angles. After processing the object’s shape, trajectory, and light-occlusion profile, the computer finally rendered a few probable reconstructions.

It was…

It was a staggeringly massive warship!

The vessel was an enormous ellipsoid, with an estimated diameter between 150 and 200 kilometers. The sheer scale of it was mind-numbing; its diameter alone was more than ten times that of the Noah, making its total volume over a thousand times greater!

Strangely, the ambient starlight seemed to warp and distort unnaturally around the ship’s hull, making it difficult for the visual sensors to lock in its exact dimensions.

“What’s the status?” Jason demanded, rushing into the observatory the moment he received the alert. When he saw the rendered model rotating on the main screen, he froze.

The size… its sheer, overwhelming size radiated an aura of absolute dominance. It was a feat of engineering that human science could barely comprehend.

If a ship of that magnitude entered Earth’s atmosphere, its shadow alone would cover a landmass equivalent to seventy New York Cities! A vessel like that could wipe out humanity in a single day…

No, probably in a matter of hours. Humanity couldn’t possibly wage a conventional war against a civilization this advanced; there was a 90% chance they would be forced to surrender immediately, provided the aliens weren’t intent on total genocide.

Damn it! Jason cursed inwardly. A leviathan like that might actually possess the firepower to crack a planet in half!

They hadn’t known the target’s true size beforehand. If they had known they were provoking a monster of this scale, they might never have authorized the “Space Fortress” disguise or fired the warning shot. But the radio broadcast had already been sent, and the ion cannon had been fired; the die was cast. They had to see the bluff through to the bitter end…

Seeing the color drain from the faces of the scientists around him, their hard-earned confidence shattering, Jason forced himself to speak up. “This has to be their civilization’s flagship. Only a vessel of this colossal size could house the infrastructure needed to support a massive, self-sustaining population…”

He turned to the team. “Have you found anything else?”

An astronomer snapped out of his daze and pointed a shaking finger at one of the raw thermal images. “Look at this section here. There might actually be a critical structural flaw!”

Jason narrowed his eyes, examining the display. It was a false-color infrared map. On the ship’s right flank, a massive, glaring red bloom dominated the hull, indicating a catastrophic bleed of thermal energy. This continuous hemorrhage of heat was the only reason humanity had spotted them in the first place!

What did that mean?

Humanity hadn’t intercepted any more stray radio emissions, suggesting the aliens had realized their comms were leaking and patched the vulnerability. Yet, this massive thermal bleed persisted, meaning they hadn’t or couldn’t fix it.

This was completely abnormal for an advanced spacecraft!

The ship really is severely damaged! That was Jason’s immediate instinct.

He realized Dr. Arthur Lambert was likely dead on the money. Why weren’t they repairing a critical thermal leak? Perhaps they lacked the raw materials, or the engineering manpower! They must have limped into the Solar System in a desperate bid to salvage resources and make repairs!

If that was true, the “Space Fortress” bluff still had a high probability of success! If the enemy’s flagship was crippled, would they truly risk starting a war with an unknown, heavily armed fortress?

Jason clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, completely ignoring the sting as he stared at the screen.

…

The waiting period was a unique kind of torture.

They endured two more agonizing days. It was now 10:00 PM, but not a single scientist in the observatory had left their post.

More than sixteen days had passed since the Noah transmitted its radio warning. In roughly ten hours, the math dictated that the light-speed delay would close. They would finally see how the alien vessel reacted to their broadcast and their ion cannon blast.

Would the aliens open fire immediately? Or would they back down?

If the enemy retaliated with a light-speed kinetic or energy weapon, the Noah would be annihilated before the observatory’s sensors even registered the flash.

Excitement, terror, and suffocating dread permeated the room. Everyone’s eyes were bloodshot. Many hadn’t slept in over 48 hours, operating purely on adrenaline and caffeine, refusing to blink when the response window finally opened.

Naturally, Jason was right there with them.

Over the low hum of the machinery, he could hear Dr. Arthur Lambert’s booming voice. True to form, the young physicist was aggressively optimistic. “What are you all so terrified of? I guarantee you every major interstellar civilization has dreadnoughts this size… Once we crack the tech tree, we’ll build them too!”

“Who cares how big it is? Do you really think they can punch through the Noah’s hull? I refuse to believe it!”

And he had a point. The core structure of the Noah the ancient, alien-forged sphere at its heart was virtually indestructible. Even if a direct laser strike hit them, Lambert doubted it would even scratch the original hull…

Of course, the fragile human-built facilities and the fake weapon emplacements bolted to the exterior would be instantly vaporized, immediately exposing their bluff… But if they were already being fired upon, the disguise failing was the least of their worries.

Lambert was right about one thing: technological progression was exponential. Humanity could barely predict what their own tech would look like in twenty years, let alone fifty. What if this alien civilization was only a century or two ahead of them?

As the hours ticked down, the debates quieted into a suffocating, breathless silence. Whether the universe was a Hostile Wilderness, whether they faced peace or annihilation, all of it would be decided in a matter of hours.

Under these circumstances, who wouldn’t be paralyzed by fear?

By 7:00 AM, breakfast rations were distributed. No one had the stomach for it. They choked down a few dry bites, their eyes glued unblinkingly to the telemetry screens.

The seconds bled away…

“Beep beep! Beep beep!”

The countdown timer alarm blared. According to the temporal calculations, the light-delay window had closed. The alien ship had received the warning, and their immediate reaction should now be visible on the sensors!

“Why is there no reaction? Have they fired? Sensors show negative on incoming high-energy signatures!” a technician shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

“Calm down! Give them a second to process the message!”

Jason swallowed hard, his throat dry. Beneath his composed exterior, he was terrified.

“Wait, their velocity profile is shifting! I think they’re decelerating!” an astronomer yelled, jabbing a finger at his monitor. His hands shook violently as he punched numbers into his terminal, running the calculations again and again. “No, wait… that’s not right. I dropped a decimal.” He frustratingly cleared his screen.

At these extreme ranges and relativistic speeds, calculating minute shifts in velocity in real-time was incredibly difficult.

Yet, minutes passed. The Noah hadn’t been vaporized, and the alien ship seemed to be holding its course without returning fire. What was going on?

One hour passed. Then two. Just as the anxiety in the room threatened to boil over into full-blown panic…

Hiss… crackle… The main audio monitors suddenly flared with static.

The lead communications officer ripped off his headset, screaming at the top of his lungs. “A transmission! We’re receiving a directed radio transmission!”

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