Ye Mo's left hand was still resting on the edge of the control panel, while his right hand held the now-cold instant coffee. A layer of dust covered the cracked lenses of his glasses. He didn't move or speak, but the fragments of his genes vibrated again—clearer than last night, as if someone was typing Morse code into his DNA.
This time it wasn't an illusion.
He had been monitoring it for seventy-two hours straight. For three whole days, he was the only one in the control room guarding the detection system. Even Groot couldn't stand it anymore and stuffed a twig into a crack in the floor to keep him awake. At first, those low-frequency pulse signals were elusive, occurring every thirty-seven seconds, with amplitudes even lower than the background radiation. But people are prone to making foolish mistakes when they get carried away. Last night, the other side suddenly launched an enhanced heartbeat test, increasing the frequency and changing the hopping rhythm three times, which he caught red-handed.
"System," he murmured to himself, "Retrieve the three-day cumulative data stream for Sector G-7."
[Loaded, a total of 47 abnormal signal segments were captured, including 3 repetitive frequency hopping sequences with a matching accuracy of 91.6%]
A series of waveforms appeared on the screen, and Ye Mo swiped his finger to open the comparison interface. On the left was a sample of military protocols that had been extracted from the black box of the Ronan battleship years ago, and on the right was the "telegram" intercepted last night. The two curves slowly overlapped, the frequency hopping points matched one by one, and even the small upturned corner at the end of the checksum was exactly the same.
"Ha." He chuckled softly and set his coffee cup aside.
This is neither a residual signal nor a natural fluctuation; it's a living person sending messages. And they're sending them quite frequently.
He casually switched to the microgravity sensor network shared by Groot. His plant-like teammate had been silently supporting the root network for the past few days, like an invisible fishing net cast over the 100,000-kilometer airspace around the base. Just now, a thin root extending to the edge of G-7 transmitted a set of abnormal disturbances—every thirty-seven seconds, there was a slight vibration inside the supply ship wreckage, the location precisely locked in an unregistered compartment.
"Manipulated," Ye Mo said in a low voice. "It was well hidden, but you stepped in my footprints, brother."
Without further hesitation, he directly accessed the public channel meeting request and called out the names of five people—no, these five were already on standby at their respective posts, but none of them knew there was a meeting.
Star-Lord's voice was the first to pop out. "Oh? The great detective finally decided to call us? I thought you were going to solve the case by yourself until dawn."
"Enough nonsense." Ye Mo tossed the waveform comparison chart onto the projection screen. "Look at this. The low-frequency pulses and the encryption structure are exactly the same as those in Ronan's fleet. I'm not doubting anything; I've actually recorded three repeating sequences."
Rocket Raccoon snorted, "What can a bunch of defeated soldiers do? Take apart a spaceship with screwdrivers?"
"The problem is they don't work alone." Ye Mo pulled out another set of data, "Notice this—I found this at the same timestamp, during the strongest signal the night before last."
He magnified the energy spectrum and circled a sharp high-frequency peak in the bottom clutter.
"This thing doesn't belong to any known Kree Empire device," he said, "But it perfectly matches the 'new threat' signature we detected earlier. Encrypted signals from two different factions superimposed in the same spacetime, frequency hopping patterns, and coordinated offsets... Do you think this is a coincidence?"
The command center fell silent for a moment.
Gamora finally spoke, "They're in contact."
"It's not just about communication," Ye Mo nodded, "It's about coordinating the pace of the operation. It's like two people agreeing to press a switch at the same time, one distracting the other while the other prepares to act."
Star-Lord fiddled with the headphones in his hand, the playful smile fading slightly, "So now we're not facing a remnant of the enemy, but a mercenary force that's just found a new boss?"
"More or less." Ye Mo leaned against the console. "And the new boss is willing to provide them with technical support. This level of encrypted synchronization can't be handled without external assistance."
Rocket Raccoon scratched his ear. "Wait, you mean those purple-faced losers are working for someone else now, and their target is still us?"
"The final target cannot be confirmed at the moment," Ye Mo replied truthfully. "But their communication node is located on a sunken supply ship in Sector G-7, less than 200,000 kilometers away from our base as the crow flies. You're saying they were just passing by for a picnic?"
Groot uttered a deep "I am Groot," meaning: I can send more roots over to investigate.
"Don't rush," Ye Mo raised his hand to stop them. "We need to do two things now: first, maintain passive monitoring, and record the entire process as soon as they communicate again; second, adjust the patrol routes, rotating between the two lines to guard against feints."
Star-Lord whistled. "Sounds like a war of attrition."
"I didn't say we were going to fight," Ye Mo corrected. "I said 'defense.' Upgrading to full alert now would only expose our hand and make them back down. We need to make them feel safe and continue sending telegrams."
Rocket rolled his eyes. "So you're planning to make us sit here waiting for them to post on social media?"
"No." Ye Mo opened the backup channel panel. "I request to activate the level 3 encryption anti-eavesdropping protocol. As long as they connect to the external network again, we can trace the signal backwards and maybe even pinpoint the location of the intermediate relay station."
Gamora stared at the screen for a few seconds, then slowly nodded. "Feasible. If the other side really has reinforcements, there must be relay nodes on the communication link. Intercepting the relay data might yield more intelligence."
"It's settled then." Star-Lord sat up straight. "Increase patrols, Groot extends the Perception Network to the perimeter of G-7, and Rocket and I will take turns monitoring the listening system. What about you? Continue being your data ghost?"
"I'll be in charge of analyzing all incoming signals," Ye Mo said. "Also... I'll have the system continuously record the resonance frequency of the genetic fragments. If these people are truly related to the origins of Mutants, the next vibration might trigger new clues."
Rocket scoffed, "You really think you're a receiver?"
"Otherwise what?" Ye Mo shrugged. "We can't expect any of you to suddenly develop Telepathy, can we?"
Star-Lord pretended to clutch his chest. "Ouch, that hurts, bro."
The atmosphere eased slightly, but no one truly relaxed. Everyone knew this wasn't a drill.
Groot had begun to slowly extend its root system, some of the fine roots penetrating the deck and connecting to the external sensor array, spreading out like a living radar network. Gamora turned and walked towards the observation window on the outer corridor, her hand never leaving the hilt of her sword. Rocket got up cursing and walked towards the armory, turning back halfway and yelling, "If a real fight breaks out, don't expect me to pick up your glasses!"
Ye Mo looked down at his dirty silver-rimmed glasses and said nothing.
He knew that the days to come would not be peaceful.
But he wasn't afraid.
He used to live a solitary life, but things are different now. He has four people standing behind him who are willing to listen to him finish speaking, even if one of them is a Raccoon who swears.
He pulled up the 3D star map of Sector G-7 again, marked the supply ship's location in red, and drew a warning circle around it. His finger paused in the air for a moment before finally pressing the confirm button.
[Anti-eavesdropping protocol started, running silently]
The system notification sounded only once in his mind.
He picked up the cold coffee and took a sip; it still tasted like dishwater.
But he drank it.
Then he put down the cup, turned to face the control panel, and stared at the still-pulsating low-frequency curve.
It will come again.
They will wait.
Star-Lord sat back in his conductor's chair, put on one earphone, leaving the other dangling around his neck. He glanced at Ye Mo, neither joking nor singing, but simply said softly, "Alright, I'll trust you this time."
Ye Mo nodded, without saying anything more.
The five people in the command room remained at their posts, none of them moving.
The curves on the monitoring screen rose and fell quietly, like breathing.