Tech Giants: Starting from Bankrupt Companies

394: Third practical testAugust in the Command Center, the typhoon season had just passed, and the sea had returned to its calm state. Outside the glass curtain wall of the Wenchang Command Center, the setting sun was sinking, dyeing the entire bay golden-red. But no one was looking out the window. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the large screen—the drilling arm of the Zhurong-2 Mars rover was in operation, and its two-meter-long titanium alloy drill rod was slowly advancing beneath the surface of Utopia Planitia.

The depth numbers were ticking up. 1.8 meters, 1.9 meters, 2.0 meters. The drill bit stopped spinning. The entire Wenchang Command Center became so quiet that the hum of the air conditioning could be heard.

Chief Scientist Liu Peiqiang stood before the main control console, his palms drenched in sweat. The sixty-six-year-old scientist had been following the project since the inception of yinghuo-1; it had been three years now. He stared at the words ’Sample Extraction Complete’ on the screen, his lips trembling slightly.

”Begin analysis.”

Data began to flicker. The test results of the ice core samples were displayed one by one: 99.2% purity, mineral content below 0.8%, zero heavy metals, and zero microbial content. When the final line of text popped up, the entire Wenchang Command Center seemed to hit a pause button—’Conclusion: Drinkable, oxygen-producible, fuel-producible.’

Liu Peiqiang stood up abruptly, his chair sliding back and hitting the wall. His voice was as raspy as sandpaper rubbing against sheet metal: ”Water. Clean water.”

Beside him, the young engineer Xiao Li’s voice was also trembling: ”Professor Liu, is it really drinkable?”

Liu Peiqiang looked at the line of text on the screen, his eyes turning red: ”Yes. Martian water is drinkable.”

In the Wenchang Command Center, there were three seconds of silence. Then, it erupted. Some people clapped, some screamed, and some held their heads and wept. Xiao Li slumped directly into his chair, covering his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking violently. Liu Peiqiang took off his glasses and wiped them repeatedly, but the tears still wouldn’t stop flowing.

At 11:00 AM, Su Chen appeared on the large screen. He stood before a window at the Shenzhen Command Center, with the skyline of Shenzhen Bay behind him under the bright sunlight. He wore a white shirt without a tie, his sleeves casually rolled up.

”Mars has water. It is drinkable, oxygen-producible, and fuel-producible.” He paused. ”The Mars base can now begin construction.”

Applause rang out again. Liu Peiqiang nodded toward the screen, saying nothing.

On August 30th, in Shenzhen, the global release hall of Xingchen Headquarters was packed to capacity with three thousand seats. On the circular screen, the red wasteland of Mars rotated slowly, the shadow of Olympus Mons falling across Acidalia Planitia like a giant eye.

Su Chen stood in the center of the stage, wearing a deep blue suit without a tie. Behind him was a photo of a Martian sunset sent back by Zhurong-2—the sun was only two-thirds the size of Earth’s, a dim yellow disk hanging low at the edge of a pink sky, the wasteland littered with gravel, and distant ridges casting long shadows in the dusk.

”Today, Xingchen announces—the ’Manned Mars Mission’.” The large screen lit up, and the timeline jumped out line by line:

Manned Mars Mission

2030: First group of astronauts lands on Mars

2032: Completion of Mars Outpost (capacity: 6 people)

2035: Expansion into a permanent base (capacity: 20 people)

2040: Prototype of a Martian city (capacity: 200 people)

Su Chen’s voice was calm but firm: ”Mars is not the destination. It is humanity’s second home.”

At 11:00 AM, the big screen switched to footage from NASA headquarters. Administrator Bill Nelson sat behind a conference table, with the NASA logo and an American flag behind him. His voice was raspy but clear: ”NASA announces that it is joining Xingchen’s ’Manned Mars Mission’. We will provide ’Orion’ spacecraft technology and sixty years of deep-space exploration experience.”

The reporters below were in an uproar. A reporter from The New York Times was the first to raise their hand: ”Administrator Nelson, does this mean NASA admits Xingchen’s technological lead?”

Nelson was silent for three seconds before saying: ”It means that humanity needs cooperation. Not competition, but cooperation.”

At 12:00 PM, global media began their frenzy. CNN headline: ”Landing on Mars in 2030—Xingchen’s Next Stop.” The BBC’s title was more emotional: ”NASA Joins Xingchen Mars Mission—A New Era of Cooperation.” Yomiuri Shimbun reported: ”Japan urgently applies to join the Mars Mission.”

The Twitter trending hashtag ”#Manned Mars Mission” shot to number one globally. Netizens’ comments flooded in like a tide: ”Mars has water, you can drink it, and make fuel. The Mars base can really be built now.” ”Landing on Mars in 2030, I’ll be forty then, I’ll still be able to see it.” ”NASA finally woke up. It’s not a handout, it’s cooperation. Because Xingchen is strong enough.” ”Mars, humanity’s new home.”

At 2:00 AM on September 10th, in the high seas of the Pacific Ocean, a decommissioned freighter named the ’Pacific Glory’ floated quietly on the sea, its rust-stained hull glowing a dull red under the moonlight. There were no crew members, no lights, only the sound of waves lapping against the hull. No one knew that 36,000 kilometers away in geostationary orbit, a satellite was quietly adjusting its attitude.

The satellite was twice the size of an ordinary communication satellite, with a two-meter diameter circular turret on its underside. The turret’s surface was covered in a silver-gray coating, glinting coldly under the starlight. Printed on the side of the satellite were two Chinese characters—’Heaven’s Wrath’.

At 2:30 AM, in The Pentagon situation room, the giant screen showed real-time footage of the ’Pacific Glory’ from the U.S. Navy’s global satellite monitoring system. Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin sat in the main seat, his expression grave. Chief of Naval Operations Michael Gilday stood beside him and whispered, ”Xingchen said they are testing a space-based laser today. The target is that ship.”

Austin asked, ”Can we intercept it?”

Gilday shook his head with a bitter smile: ”We can’t. It’s a laser, the speed of light. By the time we see it, the ship will already be gone.”

At 2:30 AM, the laser turret of the ’Heaven’s Wrath’ satellite aimed at the sea. From 36,000 kilometers to the ocean surface, the laser only needed 0.12 seconds. With a power of one megawatt and a range covering the globe, the irradiation time was preset for five seconds. The AI system on the satellite completed its final self-check and transmitted the status data back to the Wenchang Command Center. In the Command Center, the duty engineer looked at the ’All Ready’ prompt on the screen and pressed the confirmation key.

The laser fired silently. There was no fire, no roar, only a beam of light invisible to the naked eye, plunging vertically from 36,000 kilometers high toward the sea.

0.12 seconds later, a red dot appeared on the deck of the ’Pacific Glory’. One second, the deck began to smoke. Two seconds, the steel plate turned from red to orange, then from orange to white. Three seconds, the steel plate melted, and molten iron splattered. Four seconds, the hull was pierced through; the laser penetrated the deck, the cargo hold, and the bilge. Five seconds, the area below the waterline was hollowed out, and seawater rushed in.

The freighter snapped in two as if broken by an invisible giant hand. The bow and stern tilted up simultaneously and then slowly sank. Five minutes later, only an oil slick and a few pieces of floating debris remained on the sea.

In The Pentagon situation room, there was a deathly silence. Austin murmured, ”Five seconds. A ship is just gone.”

Gilday whispered, ”What if that were an aircraft carrier?”

No one answered. On the screen, the final image of the Pacific Glory was frozen at the moment it broke apart.

At 3:00 AM, an internal assessment report from The Pentagon was delivered to Austin’s desk. The report was only one page long, but every word was like a bullet:

Space-Based Laser Weapon Threat Assessment

Carrier Strike Groups: If war breaks out, they will be destroyed in the first round of strikes.

Warning Time: 0

Interception Probability: 0

Conclusion: The U.S. Navy needs to rethink naval warfare.

After dawn, Chief of Naval Operations Gilday told reporters: ”We need to rethink naval warfare. The era of the aircraft carrier might be over.”

At 10:00 AM, at the United Nations headquarters, in the hall of the emergency meeting, representatives from 193 countries looked grave. U.S. Representative Linda Thomas-Greenfield pounded the table, her voice shrill: ”Space-based laser weapons are a threat to all of humanity! They must be banned immediately!”

Chinese Representative Zhang Jun stood up, his voice calm: ”Ms. Greenfield, there is currently no international law banning space-based laser weapons. The United States itself tested anti-satellite laser weapons in the 1980s.” He paused. ”If the United States wants a ban, please destroy your own first.”

The Russian representative raised their hand: ”Seconded.”

The French representative was silent for a moment: ”Abstain.”

The British representative: ”Abstain.”

Greenfield’s face turned ashen. The meeting ended without any results.

At noon that day, in Shenzhen, Su Chen was doing research in the laboratory when Lin Wan pushed the door open, a tablet computer in her hand: ”The UN proposal didn’t pass. The U.S. wants to ban the deployment of space-based weapons, but they have similar technology themselves, so they can’t ban it.”

Su Chen nodded, his gaze not leaving the sea: ”As expected. The era of aircraft carriers is over. From now on, whoever controls space, controls the Earth.”

Lin Wan hesitated for a moment: ”Will we be criticized?”

Su Chen smiled, a calm and composed expression in his smile: ”Criticized? We were testing in the high seas, it’s legal and compliant. If they want to ban it, they should destroy the anti-satellite lasers they tested in 1985 first.”

That afternoon, global media headlines were all about ’Space-Based Lasers.’ CNN: ”Space-Based Laser Destroys Freighter—The End of the Carrier Era.” The BBC’s headline was more direct: ”A Ship Sinks in Five Seconds; U.S. Military Admits Carriers Would Be Destroyed in the First Round if War Breaks Out.” The Wall Street Journal analyzed it from a strategic perspective: ”The Pentagon: We Need to Rethink Naval Warfare.”

The Twitter comment section exploded. ”Five seconds, a ship is gone. An aircraft carrier? Ten seconds.” ”Laser weapons, the speed of light. You can’t intercept them, you can’t hide. Aircraft carriers are just iron coffins now.” ”The U.S. tested anti-satellite lasers in 1985. Now they want a ban? Too late.” ”From now on, whoever controls space, controls the Earth. Xingchen has already won.”

Late that night, the lights at the Wenchang Command Center were still on. Liu Peiqiang sat at the control console, the Martian water ice sample data sent back by Zhurong-2 still flickering on the screen. He glanced at the screen next to it—it showed the real-time status of the ’Heaven’s Wrath’ satellite; the laser turret had been retracted, and the satellite had returned to the appearance of an ordinary communication satellite.

He thought of the sentence Su Chen said this morning: ”The Mars base can now begin construction.” Then he thought of the sentence Lin Wan just relayed: ”Whoever controls space, controls the Earth.”

He gave a bitter smile. An era was ending, and another was beginning. And they were standing right at that turning point.