Qin Zhongquan struggled to his feet, fighting the dizziness caused by hypoglycemia. He took two steps toward the bridge, then paused. He scratched his head, sat back down next to the priest, retrieved the communicator from behind his armrest, and connected to the ship's public channel. "First Mate! Cancel the combat alert! They are not pawns of the free market!"
"But there are more than 260,000 of them! My radar screen is almost full!" The first mate answered nervously, completely losing the confidence that he had when he set out.
"I know you're anxious, but don't worry, brothers," Qin Zhongquan said. "Think carefully about the success rate of our reconnaissance drones in finding objects."
That's 3% ± 0.5%. This roughly means: with current technology, for every 1,000 drones released, only 25 to 35 will track their intended targets. During the chaos, soldiers used this ratio to estimate the enemy's strength—dividing the number they spotted by this ratio. Generally, this number, divided by 40,000, gave them the exact number of enemy warships.
After a brief pause, Qin Zhongquan continued, "Free market mercenaries don't have fleets this large. The entire Martian Federation, or even the warships of the eight worlds combined, might not have one! So, it's not that we're too weak, it's that the enemy is too strong."
Surrendering wisely is nothing for free mercenaries, but what is important is to know to whom to surrender.
"Turn on our transponders," he ordered. "I think we should talk to them first."
The first mate did not insist. He clicked a few times on the console, sent a communication code to the drone swarm, and then transferred the microphone to the captain's position.
After a while, the fake window blurred, the scenery disappeared, and turned into a mosaic picture. An image resembling a human upper body and face gradually emerged, but it did not become clearer, as if it was affected by severe electromagnetic interference.
"Zizi, beep beep beep, poppy?" A series of electric sounds came from the speaker.
"What?" Qin Zhongquan decided to introduce himself. "We are a group of free mercenaries from the asteroid belt. We are lost due to lack of supplies and fuel. We request humanitarian assistance in accordance with international law."
"Zizi, voiceprint confirmation." The other end replied, "Verifying... Estimated time: 45 minutes and 6 seconds."
Qin Zhongquan looked at the priest: "What does he mean?"
"Wait." The priest's words were concise, but his expression became extremely wonderful.
"Nonsense, of course I know I have to wait. But why does it take so long? I remember that even in the Outer Rim, remotely accessing the ship data on the moon only takes a little over half an hour, right? I don't believe the Community's database is on the moon either."
"Maybe it's on the other side of the solar system." The priest muttered to himself.
"That's even more impossible. No communication can be faster than the speed of light, unless the community possesses superluminal technology. Don't tell me that the automated post stations have the ability to evolve on their own? Have they found a way to exceed the speed of light during the time you haven't been in contact with them?"
"Oh, that's definitely not the case. As far as I know, faster-than-light speeds are still just a science fiction concept." The priest paused. "As for the automated stations, the ascetic's report states that they can only respond to certain stimuli, so I presume they lack intelligence, and therefore, they can't possibly have any so-called evolutionary abilities... I suspect their database is likely beyond the borders."
He sighed deeply and continued in a voice only he could hear: "I really want to go and see it after completing the mission."
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