Proxima b.
In an office deep within Parliament, in the central city on the surface.
"...That's roughly the situation. I'm sorry, but you'll have to walk the rest of this road yourselves," the representative from the Sociology Division of the Human Federation Fleet's Academy of Sciences said guiltily. "I'm afraid we haven't been much help."
A faint voice came through in the background: "The cryosleep procedure will begin shortly. Please..."
"I'm sorry."
The head of the Sociology Division apologized again.
The next moment, the video call in the holographic projection disconnected.
The final image showed row upon perfectly ordered row of hibernation chambers.
The office lights were off. Only the faint glow of the holographic projection illuminated the objects around it.
The man sitting behind the desk pressed his lips together tightly, silently watching the holographic projection before him.
The holographic projection displayed a large message: [Connection lost].
"Ah..."
The figure behind the desk let out a heavy sigh. "Zhengqing, we're on our own now."
Another voice came from the corner of the office.
It, too, began with a heavy sigh.
"Yes... We're on our own."
"The fleet probably can't even save itself."
The figure behind the desk said nothing and merely waved his hand.
The next second, light blazed forth.
The office became as bright as day, its darkness instantly dispelled by cool-toned lighting.
The pale light revealed the scene inside the office.
Ren Feng and Zhang Zhengqing.
The two current leaders of Human Civilization on Proxima Centauri.
With no one willing to run for Head Councillor and no one distinguishing themselves within the Academy of Sciences, the two men had no choice but to continue shouldering the burden of revitalizing Human Civilization on Proxima Centauri.
But...
That burden was far too difficult to bear.
Even though both men