For his previous birthdays, aside from that one time the... phantoms on the *Solar* celebrated for him, Reting had always spent the day first with Valen and then with his friends.
He truly regarded those people as classmates and friends. This was likely a point of confusion for outsiders who didn't know him well; after all, he could now be considered a different species from ordinary humans—one could even argue he was fast-tracking toward reproductive isolation.
Reting didn't particularly care about such things.
As their break drew to a close, notification windows automatically popped up on the visors of everyone’s optical computers.
And so, they went their separate ways. Their core responsibilities differed, so they naturally couldn't all go to the same place.
Although Reting had transferred them into his own team, they wouldn't always act alongside him. To do so would essentially be a death sentence for them. Thus, while the team was established, it would only function as a unit on battlefields where they faced the enemy head-on; normally, everyone still handled their own individual duties.
Currently, Reting was heading directly to find the mediator, Ruo. Since Ruo was also preparing to head to the front lines, Reting would be tasked with his protection.
When he located the mediator, he heard faint voices from a distance.
"Please... I beg you... him..."
"I will..."
Ruo was speaking with someone in a corner of the spaceport’s commercial district. He was very popular here—well, conflict mediators were always popular. His companion was an elderly Orion man, well over a hundred and eighty years old, who seemed to be entreating him for a favor.
Reting raised an eyebrow and approached. "Ruo?"
"Mr. Sun Star?" Ruo instinctively turned around, smiling at Reting. "Good morning—ah, it is currently 3:50 AM by Human Union Capital time. Perhaps I should say good early morning?"
Since their previous conversation, this gentle and somewhat talkative mediator had insisted on calling Reting "Sun Star." He claimed it gave him more confidence when he thought about the front lines.
Thinking about it, perhaps he had been troubled by a lack of confidence in years past. Therefore, even though he was now powerful enough to garrison this frequently troubled star sector alone for over a decade—and even truly "mediate conflicts and maintain peace" in a literal sense—he still occasionally needed to find a sliver of support from others.
But it didn't matter; Reting was used to being the one who supported others.
"We don't have that grammar; we just say morning, noon, or night," the black-haired youth said in a gentle tone.
As he spoke, he turned to look at the old man talking to Ruo. "And this is...?"
"Ah..."
The elderly man, dressed in ordinary clothes, had a somewhat hunched frame and appeared a bit constrained.
But it was to be expected. After that beam of light had flashed through the golden, sun-like sea of radiance, even some of the classmates Reting saw every day showed a hint of instinctive awe when they looked at him, let alone an ordinary person without any powers.
However, an elder was an elder; one didn't survive this long in the turbulent stars for nothing. He quickly steadied his emotions, offered a kind smile, and proactively reached out to Reting. "Hello, Sun Star. I am Tyron Stow, a procurement officer for the Far Light Group."
...Far Light?
Valen seemed to have mentioned during their chats that "Far Light Fine Materials" was a small subsidiary under a conglomerate called the "Far Light Group."
Reting blinked, lowered his head slightly with a smile, and shook his hand. "Hello, Mr. Stow."
After their polite greetings, perhaps to dispel any suspicion or wariness Reting might have, Tyron Stow took the initiative to mention their previous topic. "It’s like this: Ruo and I are friends. I wanted to ask him for help in finding someone at the front..."
"Ah, yes, yes." Ruo’s translucent, soft, non-human face seemed to carry a smile, his eyes emitting a warm white light. "Tyron wants me to help him find his great-grandson. His name is Vodo Stow. He should be with the First Legion, fifty-eight years old this year."
"Vodo Stow?" Reting felt the name was familiar. He frowned and thought for a moment, soon pulling a person he had... well, dealt with during his internship years out from a corner of his memory. "He’s a decent logistics manager."
Ruo was greatly surprised. "You know him?"
"We dealt with each other a bit in the past. I’m fairly familiar with the people of the First Legion," Reting said candidly. Of course, he had no intention of mentioning the relationship between the "New Sun" on his back and the First Legion.
Hearing this, Tyron Stow’s eyes lit up. He seemed to want to say something, but his mouth opened and closed in hesitation.
Seeing this, Reting asked, "So, do you have a message for him?"
"Ah, yes." The old man nodded, looking somewhat weary. "Not long ago... his father passed away from illness. I want to see him—after all, he cut ties with his parents thirty-five years ago and hasn't returned home since...
"And... even if this war doesn't take my life as usual, I know I am dying. I miss him very much."
Reting paused and looked at Ruo.
The mediator shrugged helplessly, then asked sincerely, "Could you please help with this matter? Rest assured, I will provide sufficient compensation..."
"..." Reting thought for a moment and said to Stow, "If I encounter him, I will pass on your message."
Having received such a promise, Tyron Stow appeared very happy. He thanked Reting repeatedly and insisted on giving him his most valuable possession—a souvenir he had bought for a friend back home.
Reting firmly refused the gift. After signaling to Ruo, he departed toward the warship they were to board.
Watching his retreating back, Ruo suddenly sighed. Given that Dotta respiratory systems differed from those of Orions, this sigh caused the gold-dust gel all over his body to bubble outward.
"So similar..." he lamented softly, rambling as he bid farewell to Stow. "Starstream was just like that back then, too embarrassed to take things after helping others... Ah, no, that’s not right. Sun Star doesn't *want* them, while Starstream didn't *care*. Well, well. I hope their fates aren't the same... If good people never get good rewards, what’s the point of me being a mediator?"
***
The front-line battlefield of the interstellar era was a magnificent sight—not because it was beautiful, but because it was truly a line of glittering light.
At least, from the perspective of the spaceport, it certainly was.
This time, the fleet did not assemble into a massive formation. Instead, they flew toward the edge of the battlefield in an arrowhead formation, with auxiliary ships guarding the flagship.
From afar, everyone could see various beams of light constantly crisscrossing the deep void. They were not kinetic weapons, for while kinetic weapons were powerful, they required long charging times and were difficult to use for area-of-effect destruction against space fleets or bases.
Naturally, they weren't laser weapons either, because light is also a "wave." During over-the-horizon strikes, they could be jammed by the enemy, causing them to scatter into space and end up as a massive waste of energy—essentially a giant firework display for interstellar war observation enthusiasts.
They were simply plain, unadorned rains of precision-guided bombs, traversing the empty deep like meteors, launched by the automated attack systems of both sides and intercepted mid-way by automated defense systems.
AIs were fighting the war in place of living beings. If no one issued a stop command, this war would continue indefinitely. It would go on even if every person on both sides died; this was the "push-button" warfare of the future. Sometimes, by the time a battle ended, the soldiers on both sides might never have even seen each other, and thus, they wouldn't feel much of the reality of "I killed another life."
The moment they left the Mistletoe spaceport and entered the actual war zone, everyone’s optical computers received war warning messages broadcasted by the Galactic Hub.
By the time they could see several of their own planetary weapons stationed far apart from one another, a few stray guided bombs, deflected by friendly jamming, nearly slammed into their faces. However, they were all precisely intercepted early on by the fleet, which was truly built for war.
As the flashes of interceptor flares lit up, Reting was in the briefing room next to the main command deck, sitting across from the mediator, Ruo.
"I will record this war and do my best to communicate and understand what those who initiated this are thinking," Ruo said solemnly. "Furthermore, regarding their attacks on medical bases outside the war zone and spaceports with large civilian populations, I will submit a request for aid to the Hub."
"I thank you, but those things are outside my scope of duty." Reting sat upright with his hands on his knees, nodding slightly. "However, if you figure out the enemy's intentions..."
"I will certainly tell you," Ruo said understandingly.
"Thank you," Reting said with a smile.
While negotiation and mediation weren't his responsibility... war and combat certainly were.
The enemy had done things to harm his side, so he naturally needed to know their intentions. Otherwise, how could he "ensure the enemy fails in everything they want to achieve"?
As for this well-traveled mediator...
He hoped the man could achieve what he set out to do. In any case, Reting’s mission regarding him would be complete once he escorted him to the front-line command headquarters. In truth, this escort mission was merely a show put on by the Human Union for the Galactic Hub and the other six permanent presiding civilizations: *Look! Even our strongest esper warrior has been sent to escort a conflict mediator!*
In reality, everyone knew that as long as the mediator stayed next to the flagship's command center, nothing would go wrong unless something truly catastrophic happened. And if something did go wrong...
...If the flagship's command center, coming from the rear, were to be blown up, then there would be nothing left to say. Everyone meeting with an "accident" together would be the best-case scenario.
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