The past in the Stardust Between the Multi-Star Federation, the Standard Hyperephemeris epoch 19328.

The velvety darkness is sprinkled throughout, and Garhia wakes up from a ten-day hypnotic learning program. He frowned, displeased with the sudden exposure to the strong light as soon as he opened his eyes, and quickly put on the stereo vision goggles.

"There has to be a report and recommendations for improvements." He thought.

He straightened up and looked around at his friends, who were still lying in a clear glass enclosure and sleeping with headphones. Then, he briskly jumped off the ground and walked out of the huge room filled with a rectangular shape like a transparent coffin.

Captain standing in the main control room, Sigana. Wari imagined in a kind of helpless prescient mood that Gahia must be walking to the main control room in high spirits at this moment, wanting to finish the endless discussion before he entered the hypnosis study room.

Sigana couldn't help but shake his head. He was a man with a resolute face and a sharp eye, and though the traces of sorrow were like frost on the trunk of a tree in the harsh winter, carved into his muscular torso, the courage of the Confederate General had not been lost to the stagecoach of time.

Thinking of Gahia, Sigana found a strange sense of threat and a kind feeling of goodwill at the same time. He shouldn't have debated with Gahia – frankly, where was it?

If you want to say that it is an interactive coming-and-going, you have to be attentive to both sides. The chatter that has been going on since the beginning of the voyage is just a one-sided process of Gahia's attempt to make Sigana dizzy and irritable with the firepower of youth.

He sighed secretly, thinking that it would be better to perfunctory Gahia for the time being, and forget the argument that he agreed with. He really didn't want to confront a talkative Gahia, as if the teenager, who had only spent his twenty-year-old super-ephemeris on the ship last week, might threaten some of his most precious things.

But, having said that, Sigana couldn't help but admit to himself that he really appreciated Garcia's sharp intelligence and the fearlessness that permeated every inch of him. He used to be like this: an absolute anti-bone youth.

Suddenly, suspicion rose in Sigana's heart that it had not seen in two decades. Why did all his ideas and beliefs disappear because of that unsuccessful plot?

From that moment on, he naturally left the Revolutionary Party behind and became the head of the starship and the general of the Federation, and his old hatred came to naught, and he began to rightfully respect the object of his assassination.

As doubts rose, his head began to ache. But he still didn't understand why...

"Sir, are you alright?"

From Gahia's worried pupils, Sigana saw himself like a fish that had been out of water for too long: a slightly open mouth gasping helplessly, eyes palpitating and panicking. He took his breath and tried to put aside his previous strange feelings.

"Nothing, just a few questions that came to mind. Don't stare at me the way you see a heart attack, you kid. ”

Gahia smiled playfully, "Do you want me to look up to you with the awe that perceives the enlightenment of the Sage?" You didn't look good just now! ”

Sigana deliberately avoided Gahia's seemingly nonchalian, but in fact suspicious, sharp rhetoric. He changed the subject: "Aren't you in a hurry to convince me of the die-hard militarists in your Psychic Roundtable politics?" ”

Jiaxia shook her head with embarrassment: "After some consideration, I am no longer in a hurry to convince you. Probably I'm really too impatient, and it's quite perverse to use words to change other people's beliefs, no matter how persuasive and sonorous the language. ”

Sigana felt as if some membrane had been cracked inside him – to reverse his faith? Wasn't his faith reversed?

Its severity and tragedy are like a candy house that has been smashed with an iron hammer, and then another imitation of the appearance of the soul is picked up from the colorful icing sprinkled everywhere. But why is he so recognized, why can't he remember how he changed his position?

How did the recognition of his youth, and all the actions he had adhered to as supreme beliefs, be completely lost in that galaxy-like turning event?

Sigana felt as if his brain waves were starting to go out of order, colliding irregularly. He struggled to suppress the growing black doubt in his mind, but a persistent slight chapping posture continued to appear in the hippocampal optic thalamus region of the brain.

He let out a low groan, bending down as he clutched the skull, which seemed to be about to be torn apart. However, the terrible divisive effect intensified, as if to cut a hole in his forehead.

Garcia hurriedly stepped forward to support Sigana, and he wondered if this seemingly majestic captain was suffering from an unknown hidden disease.

Sigana's face began to twist violently, and he felt that his present self was about to be gradually replaced by some kind of mental mind that had long been closed; However, the most difficult feeling for him to grit his teeth is not the physical pain. In addition to the pain, he also remembered many memory units that had been forced to sink deep in the brainwaves.

Garhia began to feel overwhelmed, especially when he noticed a warning signal from the photonic measuring instruments in the main control room—such a high-end signal that an unidentified flying object had invaded space at a safe distance.

He was about to press the blue button, on the one hand, to wake up the other companions who were sleeping and studying, and on the other hand, to order the spaceship to enter the first level of readiness.

When Gahia was about to touch the button, Sigana, who had been slumped on top of him, suddenly raised his head, and his bloodshot eyes were filled with resentment and rage that Gahia couldn't understand.

Looking at the captain who seemed to change in an instant, he couldn't help but take a few steps back, but Sigana seemed to be sparked by his action, which aroused resentment and anger that he himself could not even name.

He roared and lunged forward ferociously, grabbing Garhia's neck.

"In the name of our People's Revolutionary Party, we order you, a self-conceited dictator, to die! You damned hypocrite should have been a rotten bone in the tomb a long time ago, why can't you die when you are killed? ”