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墨書 Inktalez
"A magical power? ... You are too obsessed." Reynold furrowed his brow, actively analyzing the situation: psychology acknowledges that when faced with the vastness of the universe, insignificant humans experience a sense of greatness that is hard to encounter on Earth. However, such a strong self-awareness of the universe likely belongs only to Cresson... After a moment, Reynold raised his index finger towards the confused Kris.
"In our collaborative career and during this long interstellar journey, I believe I understand you best. Of course, I also know your quirks; this explains everything: because deep down, you are unwilling to return home, your self-awareness is constantly affirming itself amidst inner conflict." Reynold stated his viewpoint directly. He was gradually forming his own judgment: things were becoming clear.
The avoidance-type conflict had created psychological barriers for Cresson.
"No, it's not entirely like that." Kris seemed to be arguing, "Captain, I can admit to you that I stand here in this B1T2 star zone with a sense of unwavering pride. This is the gateway to the universe... As long as we strive forward, we will surely reap greater rewards. Since ancient times, humanity has pursued space; isn't that the essence of progress? However, I never expected that my feelings for the universe would be ignited so intensely here. Although I cannot articulate it clearly, a deeper will is what helps me build upon that power. It is profound and vibrant, encouraging me to strive for higher realms..."
But the universe is an abyss.
Reynold thought that investing a limited life into an infinite chasm was not a wise move. For some, it seemed that the farther away places held greater allure, compelling them to willingly throw themselves into its embrace, even at the cost of their lives. Their innate curiosity was truly astonishing.
This was Kris's farthest journey yet. And perhaps it would be his last. Kris's spirit always craved exploration of the unknown world. His usual flights satisfied his desires, but this time was different. All his emotions surged forth at this moment, even leaving him bewildered. Reynold realized he should do his best to help Cresson rid himself of this unwise notion; otherwise, he truly did not know what the outcome would be, even if Kris still remembered his responsibilities.
"This world is not perfect." Reynold stood up and walked to the porthole, pointing at the pitch-black space outside. At the edge of the B1T2 region, a considerable number of chaotic comets were drifting about. Of course, they did not appear as spectacularly beautiful as those seen flying past the sun; they were merely massive dirty objects reflecting faint starlight, like ghastly ghosts wandering.
"The depths of the universe are this silent. Brother, life exists only on planets nourished by sunlight and rain like Earth; everything beyond Earth will be dangerous and cruel. In the lifeless worlds they create, when you look back, you will feel that the galaxy is your true home."
Kris smiled wryly: "I don't feel that way; life lies in movement rather than being confined to one place." This guy was a bit stubborn and just wouldn't get it.
A glimmer of hope enveloped Cresson's face; his eyes seemed to gaze far into infinity, experiencing thoughts filled with beauty as if reminiscing about a lovely childhood.
The strange thoughts made Reynold shake his head.
He had never known that Creson could have such ideas, but now they were all laid bare, causing him great distress.
"Kris, I don't need to know how many reasons you have to support your thoughts. You cannot act solely according to your own ideas, no matter how harsh that may seem to you. Here, you are first and foremost a First Officer, and only secondarily an individual. You must prioritize the wishes of the majority of the crew. Their families are waiting for them to return safely. For the greater good, I believe you can still make the right judgment. Personally, I cannot guide you forward, but I also do not wish for you to live in this torment. If you cannot adjust your mindset and calmly and rationally regain your previous feelings, then our journey home will be fraught with difficulties and not optimistic." Although Reynold was the captain, he actually held only ordinary power; the other half was in the hands of the First Officer.
Reynold knew his words might sound harsh, but he thought it might be the most appropriate approach. He hoped it would bring Creson back to his senses.
Creson did not seem to refuse. He quietly looked at Reynold, as if in agreement.
Reynold nodded and opened a drawer beside him, taking out a small bottle.
Creson immediately shook his hand.
"No need for that. Captain, I don't need a sedative."
"Alright." Reynold did not insist. "Brother, without exaggeration, you are our strategist; we cannot proceed without your input."
"Thank you."
Kris left. Reynold felt somewhat relieved. At least he now understood Creson's mindset. However, he reminded himself to closely monitor Kris's behavior over the next 72 hours. Only he could truly guide the ship back on the correct course. Otherwise, if they failed to reach Heavenly Kadar in time, his older brother might truly find himself in danger without any help.
How many dinners had it been? Reynold had forgotten; for hundreds of years, they had merely thawed out periodically to move around.
Kris naturally sat beside Reynold, who occupied the center seat. From this angle, he felt he could better observe Creson's every move. The other two thawed crew members, Astrophysicist Wenke and Biochemist Fan Qing, took the remaining seats. Both Wenke and Fan Qing were young scientists, a whole generation younger than Reynold and Creson.
Perhaps due to the generation gap, the younger generation seemed perpetually oblivious to the concerns of their elders.
A hint of fatigue floated across Kris's face as he picked up his knife and fork, his movements slightly sluggish. The food, produced through a standardized process, certainly left everyone feeling it was bland, but that wasn’t the root of the issue. Those sharp words would leave anyone feeling somewhat discontented, Reynold thought.
In truth, no one could truly be open-hearted; while many could speak freely, the taste of praise and criticism could never be the same in one's ears.
This is the weakness of human nature.
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